


Springtime Rising

by ohofcourse



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lacrosse, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Overstimulation, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 97,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25909156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohofcourse/pseuds/ohofcourse
Summary: Lacrosse rivals and classmates, Hisoka and Illumi had never gotten along in their three years of boarding school. Things began to change when autumn of their senior year arrived.
Relationships: Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 317
Kudos: 872





	1. A Plan for Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I just graduated from a new england prep school and this is my way of coping with the fact that I will not be going back. A lot of this is going to be modelled after my experience, so pardon the self-indulgence.  
> Also, I have never played lacrosse. My ex-boyfriend did, so this is all based on my sparing knowledge of it from his perspective and from google. This isn't going to be ABOUT lacrosse but it will be mentioned, so I just wanted to warn you all.

Like most difficult things in the world, it all started with Hisoka. 

Illumi was self-aware enough to know it wasn’t normal to loiter behind the white columns of the admissions building and watch his little brother and his little brother’s best friend stomp on fallen leaves.

But he also knew it wasn’t normal for a senior in high school to be doing it with them. Hisoka had taken a very odd liking to Gon, and by extension, Killua. If it had been anyone else, Illumi would have brushed it off as harmless, but Hisoka was anything but harmless. 

For students on a full scholarship, there was always an expectation as to how they would behave. Hisoka did not tend to align himself with expectations.

He was smart and athletically talented--Illumi had been stuck on the same varsity lacrosse team as him for three and a half years now. He was popular, too--not well-liked, but popular. Hisoka always seemed to be flitting from one group to the next. He and Machi became begrudging friends, then he and Chrollo, and now, disturbingly, Gon. 

Hisoka was everywhere. 

Illumi wanted him nowhere. 

It was why he was spending his precious afternoons stalking his brother instead of schoolwork, or training, or doing anything remotely productive. He was suspicious of Hisoka, especially in regards to his little brother. 

“Illumi!” That was Killua’s voice. He sounded cross. Fluffy platinum hair started moving towards him at an incredible speed, like the head of a dandelion seed blowing in the wind.

“You’re following me!” He whined. Gon appeared like a bodyguard at Killua’s side. Hisoka meandered towards Illumi as well. His school uniform was unbuttoned at the chest and parts of the hem had come untucked from his pants. Illumi could tell it was all purposeful. He wanted to sneer. 

“I just came to tell you that Mother’s sending the car an hour earlier today. Don’t be late.” He heard Killua groan, but he didn’t see it. Hisoka was filling up his frame of view, grinning knowingly, hair an alarming shade of fire-engine red, with the ends turning a pinkish color. It left Illumi utterly confused about Hisoka’s natural hair color, not that it really mattered. 

“You’ve been watching us,” he purred. Hisoka and Illumi had known each other for over three years now. They played together. They were both on the starting line for lacrosse, both considered exceptionally talented players. Still, they rarely spoke, if ever. 

Illumi shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted his chin upwards. He and Hisoka were the same height, but the way Hisoka was standing--leaning slightly forward, looming like an ancient, cursed tree--made Illumi feel inadequately small. 

“We’re going to find Zushi, peace!” Killua said. Gon waved goodbye, glancing once, warily, at Illumi. 

They didn’t get along. 

“I haven’t been watching you,” Illumi said, finally responding to Hisoka. 

“Wanna practice today?” For emphasis, he lifted the lacrosse stick that was slung over his shoulder

“Like I said, we’re getting picked up soon,” Illumi replied stiffly. Hisoka was obsessed with testing his skills against people. It was almost impressive the lengths he went to in order to adequately challenge himself. It half-answered the question as to exactly why and how he had gotten a full-ride scholarship to one of the most prestigious prep schools in the country. 

Hisoka tapped his chin thoughtfully, one dark brow lowered. 

“Why don’t you board here? You have the money.” 

“My family lives nearby. They prefer us at home.” It wasn’t untrue. Illumi’s parents had lots of preferences. Hisoka gave Illumi a once-over. They had been changing in front of each other in the locker rooms for years now. And Hisoka was definitely perverted enough to stare at people while they changed. Illumi was certain he had seen it. 

He probably hadn’t even needed to pay much attention to him. Bruises that big and that dark stood out too well on his skin. The whole team probably knew. He used to be incredibly embarrassed about it, used to grit his teeth before he walked into the locker room, curled in on himself as soon as his shirt was off. He declined massages from the hot, young trainer named Brenna and only saw her if it was serious. She was young and a little clueless, popping bubblegum boredly as Illumi explained icily that he had sprained his wrist after a trip down the stairs. 

_ You’re pretty clumsy, kiddo,  _ was her response. That had been his fifth injury that season. She didn’t see through the lie, or the many others that would follow, just sort of shrugged and taped him up whenever he asked. She was a blessing.

Hisoka snapped his fingers in front of Illumi’s face. 

“Hello?” Illumi wrinkled his nose and took a step back. 

“That’s very rude. Don’t do that.” 

“You were zoning out,” Hisoka explained. 

“It’s rude,” Illumi said. Hisoka smiled, eyes crushing into fond crescents. 

“Okay, my bad.” Illumi didn’t like the way he said it, like he was humoring Illumi, throwing him a metaphorical bone. 

“Why are you hanging out with my brother?” He demanded, feeling unsettled under Hisoka’s full-lipped smile.

“I’m hanging out with Gon,” he corrected. “Because he’s fun. And he doesn’t treat me like I should feel lucky to be here.” Illumi’s nose wrinkled. 

“You should feel lucky to be here.” Hisoka smile tightened and then widened to an almost disturbing quality. 

“Right, Zoldyck. Have fun at home. Let’s practice tomorrow, then?” Hisoka took two steps back. His pants were slightly too short, revealing thin, pale ankles, slightly freckled from the summer. There were bandaids on both of his elbows. 

“Fine,” Illumi said. He checked his phone on reflex and his stomach tightened. An hour until they were picked up. 

“Okay, meet me at the field at four.” 

“That’s late,” Illumi said, frowning. Hisoka gave him his own version of a frown, which was a smile. 

“Am I supposed to cater to your schedule, your highness?” Illumi felt an eye twitch coming on. 

“You’re the one who wants to practice with me,” he pointed out. “Besides, there are plenty of other guys on the team you could play with. I’m not the only person in the school who can hold a lacrosse stick.” 

“But you’re good,” Hisoka whined. 

“There are four other middies you could practice with.” 

“I don’t want to play with other middies, I want to play with you. If four’s too late, I--” 

“Four’s fine,” Illumi muttered. Though he would never admit it, it was flattering that Hisoka saw him as a challenge. Hisoka was uncommonly good at lacrosse. That was the other reason for his admittance to the school. He was tall and strong, but unbelievably deft. Illumi prided himself on accuracy and handling skills, but Hisoka could probably match him. 

The only thing Illumi knew he had on him was stamina, but even that was not by a very large margin. 

“Okay, good, four it is,” Hisoka said with a winning smile. 

“Okay.” 

“See you!” Hisoka shouted, far enough away now for that to be necessary. He did a funny little wave, wiggling his fingers instead of moving his hand. Illumi tucked his hair behind his ear and walked off. 

Early October meant the ground was littered with leaves, orange and brown and red and yellow. The image of Gon, Killua, and Hisoka stomping around in them flitted through his mind. Experimentally, he pressed his foot down on a stray leaf. It crushed silently, leaving a pathetic brown wrinkle in the pavement. 

Illumi found another one, this time, bright red, the color of Hisoka’s horrible hair. He stepped on it, hard, and it crunched like a nose beneath a fist. 

* * *

As soon as Hisoka walked through the doors of the library, every eye was on him. 

There were a few reasons as to why that would be the case. First, and perhaps the most obvious, was his hair--bright red and pink, bangs falling with a middle part past his eyebrows. He had gotten an undercut last year, but the back was growing out into something that resembled a mullet. 

Second, he was wearing athletic shorts and a sweatshirt, and he was carrying a lacrosse stick and a sports bag. It wasn’t library attire. He held his cleats by the laces, swinging them back and forth.

Third, he was scowling. Hisoka was always smiling. Even the librarian, who saw him only in brief flits throughout the week, blinked in surprise at the expression on his face. 

It didn’t take long for him to find Illumi. He was curled up in a chair near the wrap-around railing of the fourth floor. Their library was the largest of any prep school in the country. It stood five stories tall and was built with a courtyard-like middle where the school held small events and hosted speakers. The upper floors were filled with book stacks and reading nooks, as well as desks and tables with the traditional green library lamps, for studying and group work. 

Illumi had a very large book open in his lap and a steaming mug on the side table next to him. A sweatshirt was balled up on the floor and his school bag was open. Inside, Hisoka could see a small red first aid kit, a stick of deodorant, a protein bar, and various notebooks. His laptop was on the coffee table in front of him, open, and turned on. It cast a gentle blue light on Illumi’s already blue-ish skin. 

“Let’s go,” Hisoka said, coming to a stop by the table. He was feeling sour. Illumi had promised that they would practice today and so he had been waiting on the lacrosse field by himself for half an hour, no Illumi in sight. 

Tired black eyes lifted to look at him. 

“Go where?” 

“Lacrosse!” Hisoka snapped. He swung his lacrosse stick for good measure. Illumi turned the page on his book; it was about Russian art history. 

“I can’t,” Illumi said tersely. His hair was in a messy low bun. It looked really nice, but Hisoka was loath to admit that to him. 

“You promised,” Hisoka said, and he tried to keep the whine out of his voice. He hated when people broke promises. 

“I just can’t, Hisoka,” Illumi said, growing impatient now. 

“Give me a reason.” 

“I have a test tomorrow.” It was such an obvious lie that Hisoka laughed. For a moment, he forgot his anger. 

“Oh yeah? I’m pretty smart, I could tutor you.” 

“Leave me alone,” Illumi said. 

“Aw, but you look so lonely sitting here. Hey--” 

“Leave me alone,” Illumi repeated, staring up at Hisoka. There was an intensity in his gaze. 

“Hey, why are you wearing that?” Hisoka reached out and fingered the cuff of the turtleneck he was wearing under his uniform. 

“It’s cold in here.” Illumi and Hisoka met gazes once again. Hisoka was fully smiling now, eyes crinkling slightly. 

“But that’s under your uniform. So you mean to tell me you came to the library, got cold, took off your collared shirt and your sweater and put a turtleneck on underneath all that?” 

“Yes,” Illumi bit out. 

“But you have a sweatshirt on the floor,” Hisoka pointed out, enjoying himself now. He didn’t think Illumi Zoldyck could blush, but here he was, proving him wrong, and he was hardly trying. 

“Please leave me alone.” 

“No. I’m annoyed with you. I was waiting for us to practice, and now I’m in the library and I don’t have my schoolbag. I guess I’m just going to have to watch you study.” 

“You could leave,” Illumi muttered. 

“You’re such a brat,” Hisoka laughed. Illumi’s eyebrows shot up in indignation. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m not your butler, you can’t just send me away.” 

“Fine, fucking sit here and watch me fucking study, Hisoka. I hope this does it for you.” Illumi nearly ripped the page as he turned it, tucking a falling strand of hair behind his ear immediately after. 

Hisoka clicked his tongue in smug delight and collapsed in the chair next to Illumi, propping his feet up on Illumi’s knee. 

He got a wary, black-eyed glare from Illumi but nothing more. Hisoka pulled his hood up to cover his eyes and melted into the chair with a leisurely sigh.

“Illu~” Hisoka sang softly after a moment of silence. He didn’t open his eyes but he could feel Illumi’s thigh tense under his ankles. “Wake me up when your ride is here. I want to see what kind of car your parents have.” He heard Illumi scoff, a delightfully uncharacteristic sound, and then close his laptop. 

“It’s a silver Bentley. That’s what they send the driver to pick us up in.” Hisoka fell silent for a moment, slightly dazed. That car could buy him a house. It could buy him a house and a year of tuition, maybe two. 

“Can I come to your house?” He asked, 

“No,” was the resounding answer. 

“Boo, Illumi. That’s why you have no friends.” 

“You don’t have friends either,” Illumi snipped, putting his laptop in his school bag, along with the book and his sweatshirt. He had to hold his bag closed with his knees in order to zip it up properly. Hisoka watched, smiling sweetly. 

“Okay, bye,” Illumi said, shouldering his bag. His bun had loosened even more, allowing chunks of dark, silky hair to fall in front of his face once more. His eyes were rimmed in gray and his cheeks were flushed, no doubt because he was wearing a turtleneck on a warm autumn day in a building with heating. The flush worked its way from his cheeks down to the little bit of throat he had exposed. 

“What are you looking at?” Illumi demanded. Hisoka glanced up at him, blinking out of his reverie. 

“Do you have hickies?” He asked, grinning deviously. “Is that why you’re wearing that?” 

“No,” Illumi said, as firm as ever. 

“You’re lying.” 

“I’m really not, Hisoka. Goodbye.” But Hisoka wasn’t done yet. He grabbed his bag and his lacrosse stick and trotted after Illumi, swinging the stick from side to side, careful to avoid the book stacks and nearby students. 

“Stop following me,” Illumi half-begged. 

“I want to see your car,” Hisoka pouted. 

“You think I’m lying?” 

“I’ve never seen a Bentley in person before. I’ve never seen you get picked up. I’m curious.” Illumi decided not to argue with that. He walked very gingerly down the stairs, gripping the railing like an old person. Hisoka noticed it but he didn’t say anything. He had a feeling the turtleneck and the way Illumi was limping down the stairs were connected to why he refused to play lacrosse this afternoon. 

But it wasn’t like Illumi would confirm or deny that. He seemed perfectly content to be his odd, untouchable self, with his big alien eyes and his long hair and the weird way he hovered over his younger brother like a guard dog. 

Hisoka watched Illumi slowly limp down the stairs of the front entrance to the library, where a silver Bentley was indeed idling at the curb. Hisoka could see the white fluff of Killua’s hair, and the scowl of Milluki, the second oldest, nose nearly pressed to the screen of an IPad. 

“Can we practice tomorrow?” Hisoka called hopefully. Illumi winced, his big, expressionless eyes going soft with something like regret. 

“Can you just give me a few days? I just need--” Illumi caught himself. “This Friday, we can. I have to stay late to meet with a teacher.” 

“That’s so far away,” Hisoka whined. The trunk of the car whirred as it opened; Illumi threw his bag inside and closed it with the push of a button. 

“It’s three days away.” 

“Whatever~” Hisoka sang, throwing both arms behind his head and folding them there. Killua, from inside the car, stuck his tongue out at him. Hisoka stuck his out right back. 

Someone--Illumi--slammed the door shut and the car glided away. Hisoka tipped his head back, squinting against a purple and yellow sky, and sighed contentedly. 


	2. The Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka finally gets to practice with Illumi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to There's a Reason, by Wet when I was writing this! Also, I reference Haruki Murakami's collection of short stories called Men Without Women. His writing, specifically "Scheherezade", reminds me so much of Hisoillu that I had to write about it. You don't have to read it to understand the chapter, but I highly recommend you do because the whole collection is just great!

The light was catching the high point of his cheekbone. That was all Hisoka could look at, Illumi’s cheekbone gleaming slightly under the relentless autumn sunshine.

He was leaned up against a wall, the bottom of one sneaker braced against it. His uniform, as usual, was impeccable, collar crisp and starched, sweater spotless. He had his navy blazer held in his elbow. 

His brother, Milluki, was standing next to him, muttering something under his breath. Illumi either didn't hear, or he did and didn’t care to respond. His hair was down today and the humidity had rendered it wavy at the ends. Milluki spoke again, louder, and Illumi’s head lifted, those odd eyes narrowed and widened minutely. Illumi, Hisoka had noticed, moved with such precision and delicacy that it almost made him seem inhuman, as quick and dynamic as a hummingbird, and just as easily bothered. 

Hisoka watched as he and Milluki made their way to the entrance of the auditorium, where a loose line of students was forming. Hisoka could see Chrollo and Feitan and Phinks, and then, a little further off, Machi and Pakunoda. He assumed Shizuku was somewhere closeby. For a moment, he was tempted to go to them. He hated sitting alone at school meetings. But, before he could decide, they slipped into the auditorium and were lost in the crowd. 

Hisoka swallowed. With his hands shoved in his pockets, he made his way to the auditorium doors and slid through a loose group of girls, two grades younger. They giggled nervously at his intrusion. Hisoka, if not beloved, was at least well-known. He was a boy of multitudes: bright red hair and painted nails, starting lineup on lacrosse, brief member of the debate team, not brief member of the school newspaper. As he brushed the shoulder of a girl at least a foot shorter than himself, he made reluctant eye-contact. 

“Hi,” she gasped, on instinct. 

“Hello,” Hisoka said, more muted than usual. She blinked in surprise, like she had been expecting his trademark fox-smile and a flirty quip. 

Hisoka just continued his way through the foyer of the auditorium and ducked into one of the side doors that lead to the balcony seating. If he was going to sit alone, he wanted it to at least look like it was purposeful. He scanned the rows of chairs for a moment, searching for somewhere out of the way to sit, when a flash of silky black hair caught his eye. A giddy smile caught in his throat. 

Illumi was sitting in the very back row of the auditorium, so high up and solitary that he looked like a perching bird. 

“Illu~” Hisoka sang, hopping over two rows of seats with ease. Illumi sank lower in his chair and glared. 

“I want to be alone, Hisoka.” 

“We can be alone together, then.” Hisoka collapsed in the seat next to Illumi. He felt Illumi flinch as their shoulders bumped, but he didn’t say anything contrary, just sighed once again and tipped his head back. Dark, fragrant hair spilled over the back of his seat. 

“Your hair smells good.” 

“I wash it.” 

“Can I come to your house this weekend?” 

“Stop asking me that. No.” 

The headmaster tapped the microphone for the school’s attention. Mr. Netero cleared his throat, smiling in that senile way of his, and began to unfurl the agenda for this week’s gathering. 

“Why--” Illumi paused, chewing his lip. He seemed irritated. “Why are you paying so much attention to me now? We’ve gone to the same school and played on the same team and taken the same classes for three years. We never talked to each other then.” Hisoka saw Illumi glance at him through gleaming strands of black hair. 

“You started it. You’ve been following me.” 

“I’ve been following my brother. It’s not my fault your only friends are children.” 

“Why do you follow Killua? Why not Milluki?”

“Milluki can take care of himself,” Illumi said shortly. Hisoka leaned forward until his nose was nearly touching Illumi’s cheek. Still, Illumi didn’t move. 

“Oh, and Killua can’t?” 

“ _No_ ,” Illumi seethed. Hisoka had hit a nerve. 

“Oookayyy,” he said cheerily. “So you follow Killua because he can’t take care of himself. You know he’s twelve, right? They aren’t supposed to be able to do that yet.” 

“The headmaster is speaking.” 

“Netero is full of hot air. _He_ doesn’t even know what he’s talking about.” Illumi’s lips twitched in a smile. Sometimes, finding common ground was as simple as dissing your senile headmaster. Hisoka, however, was never one to stay put in one place. 

“Illumi, why can’t I come to your house? Why were you wearing that turtleneck? Let’s play lacrosse today.” 

“Stop.” 

“Invite me to your house this weekend.” 

“No.” 

“Invite me, Illumi. Do your parents hate poor people?” 

“That is not the reason why they’ll hate you,” Illumi spat. Hisoka laughed and tugged at his hair. Illumi slapped him. Two teachers a few rows down glanced up and made shushing sounds. Hisoka waved in a mocking apology. 

“You know,” he continued brightly. “I bet you could give a pretty adequate handjob up here, during a school meeting. We’re so high up they wouldn’t even notice.” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Yeah, so?” 

“Is that what you and Chrollo did, then? Jerked each other off in public places at school?” Illumi drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair, jaw rigid. 

“Chrollo loves Jesus way too much. Trust me, I tried to pervert him, I really did.” 

“You’re--”

“Disgusting?”

“Irritating. Leave me alone.” Hisoka laughed again. Illumi made him laugh, he didn’t really know why. 

“Okay, I’ll be quiet.” Illum murmured something that sounded a bit like _thank god,_ but Hisoka didn’t comment on it. 

On the stage below, two students were performing a song, one on the piano, the other sitting in a black band chair next to it, singing. They were pretty good. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Hisoka saw Illumi lean forward slightly, watching the performance intently. His eyes were characteristically wide, but not as flat as usual: they glittered like they were wet. His small, pert nose wrinkled as a text alert went off from a student’s phone a few rows below them. Hisoka watched him as discreetly as he could. 

His lips moved slightly with the lyrics--some piano remastery of a popular pop song from two years ago. Illumi had nice lips. Unlike Hisoka’s mouth, which was stuck in a perpetual smile, Illumi’s turned down at the edges slightly, but it didn’t make him seem disagreeable or sad, just incredibly neutral, like an AI program come to life. 

When the performance ended, Illumi leaned back and blinked, like a spell had been broken. The students smiled and waved at the enthusiastic applause and then skipped off the stage. A new teacher took their place, presenting a slideshow on social media safety. Illumi slumped back into his chair. 

“They were good,” Hisoka said. It was a lie; he had hardly been paying attention. Illumi glanced at him warily. 

“Yeah,” he said, slightly surprised to find himself agreeing. Hisoka grinned again and Illumi looked away, fingering the sleeve of his sweater. 

“So, we’re practicing on Friday?” Hisoka saw Illumi’s shoulders sink in exasperation. 

“Yes, I told you that we would.” 

“Just making sure, because, you know, you said that _last time_ but then I was left on Scott Field by myself for half an hour.” 

“Sorry,” Illumi muttered, and he seemed to mean it, albeit begrudgingly. 

“I get it, you had a hot date who left a bunch of hickeys on your neck, so you had to wear a turtleneck the next day to cover it up.” 

“Will you stop with the fucking turtleneck?” Illumi asked. 

“No,” Hisoka crowed. “Why, are you not used to people paying so much attention to you? That’s pretty sad, Illumi. You need to get more friends.” 

“Not if they’re going to be like you.” Hisoka tugged his hair again, a little harder than last time. Instead of slapping his hand away, Illumi dug his fingers into Hisoka’s kneecap as hard as he could, until Hisoka was wincing from the pain and jerking away. 

“Ouch.” 

“Leave me alone,” Illumi said again, flatly. Hisoka finally obliged, sinking into the uncomfortable auditorium chairs with a sigh. Their knees--they were both too tall to sit in the chairs comfortably--knocked together, but if Illumi noticed, he didn’t say anything about it, just watched carefully as the community service director threw up a slideshow about community service activities that were available. 

“Do you have your community service hours?” Hisoka whispered. Illumi’s nose wrinkled. 

“No.” 

“I do.” 

“Want a handjob?” Illumi asked coolly. Hisoka was so surprised by it that he snorted. 

“Well, you need to complete them by the end of this year, you know. I volunteered at a preschool.” 

“Surprise, surprise.” 

“I don’t like what you’re implying, Illu. It’s super distasteful.” He was grinning still, tapping his fingers against their shared armrest. 

“I’ll figure it out,” Illumi said tiredly. He seemed very tired, tired all over, like he was one more ten-page paper away from having a total breakdown. His eyes were rimmed in gray and his skin was pale, despite it being only two months since summer. Even Hisoka still had a wash of freckles leftover from a vengefully hot August. 

“I’m sure you will,” Hisoka said, slightly kinder this time. Illumi looked like he needed a bit more of that, kindness. 

* * *

Friday came like a slowly rising tide. In their shared English class, Hisoka stole Chrollo’s seat and sat next to Illumi. He could feel Chrollo’s glistening eyes on him for the entire period, glaring with an intensity befitting the president of the Christian Student Association. 

“Ready for practice?” Hisoka whispered. Illumi dog-eared his copy of Haruki Murakami’s collection of short stories, _Men Without Women_ \--it did not escape Hisoka that it was a first edition and a hardcover. 

“You’re relentless,” Illumi whispered back. Their teacher droned on. 

“Yeah,” Hisoka agreed. Chrollo glared at him even harder at the sight of them talking. He was their goalie for lacrosse and had developed a slightly unhealthy obsession with Illumi right around their sophomore year. Illumi, bless him, was blissfully oblivious to his crush and was his cool, pitiless self in every regard. 

Chrollo, however, wasn’t discouraged by the continuous and merciless rejection. Hisoka found it kind of odd that Illumi didn’t subscribe to Chrollo’s weird brand of hot guy. After all, they were both very, very weird. They should have gotten along famously. 

“Hisoka,” their teacher began. “What did you think of today’s short story, ‘Scheherezade’?” 

“I liked it when they had sex,” Hisoka said with a grin. The class buzzed with muted laughter. Illumi dropped his head in his hands and scooted his chair an inch to the left. 

“Care to elaborate?” Their teacher asked, unfazed. It often took a little coaxing, but Hisoka could produce flawless analysis on essentially any book. 

“Sure,” Hisoka said, leaning back in his chair and holding his battered paperback copy under his armpit. He spoke of the girl’s high school crush, the listless existence of the lamprey eel, the heartbreaking intimacy of a pencil. Hisoka spoke without regard for the clock, and whenever he seemed to reach a natural end, their teacher pulled a little more out of him with a cleverly-placed question. By the time he was finished, the class was a dazed battalion, eyes glistening with the effort to keep up, heads bobbing in passive agreement. 

Hisoka placed his copy of the book face down on the table and tugged at a strand of red-pink hair that had fallen in front of his eye. 

“Alright, it’s three, off you go,” their teacher said with a smile. The class reanimated, rising from their chairs with stiff shakes of their limbs. 

Hisoka followed Illumi out of the classroom, staying just a step behind him. 

“Ready?” He asked. 

“I need to change,” Illumi said. 

“Okayyy, I do, too. Meet me at the field.” Hisoka threw him a wave and shouldered his bag. Illumi watched him stroll down the pathway towards his dorm, one of the smaller ones, facing the deep end of the lake, just a minute’s walk from where the campus met the forest. 

“A pencil,” Illumi found himself saying out loud. One of his classmates gave him a weird glance. Illumi realized then that he was standing in the middle of the main lawn, staring off into space. With a shake of his head, he made his way to the athletic building to change. 

Hisoka could see the small silhouette of Illumi trotting down the grassy hill by the admissions building. He walked light on his feet, like he was always trying to sneak around. It would take him a few minutes to cross the football field and the double-laned road that bisected the athletic fields and then climb up and around the backside of the gym, but Hisoka was content to wait. It was a pleasure to watch an Illumi unaware of his audience, like spotting a leopard with binoculars. 

Not that Hisoka had ever seen a leopard in real life. He imagined Illumi had, from the back of a privately hired jeep in Africa. 

“Are you happy?” Illumi demanded, finally reaching Hisoka at the furthest field. Hisoka looked up and smiled. Illumi was wearing a pair of black Lululemon shorts that stopped at mid-thigh and high top converse that were unlaced. He had a sweatshirt on, but Hisoka could see the hem of a tie-dyed t-shirt just under it. He recognized it, suddenly, as the shirt that the lacrosse team had worn during game warm-ups for breast cancer awareness. The dye used to be hot pink, but repeated washing had rendered it pale and muted. Much more suited to Illumi. 

“I’m delighted,” Hisoka admitted. “Where are your shoes?” He asked, staring at the scuffed converse with an arched eyebrow. Illumi pulled out a pair of cleats from his backpack and dangled them in answer. 

“I set up two goals, but I was thinking we could just pass to start.” 

“Okay,” Illumi said. He dropped his bag and sat down to put on his cleats. Hisoka watched from a few feet away, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

When Illumi was finished, he stood and began a series of stretches that Hisoka found really cruel. Illumi’s shorts were short, and they got even shorter when--

“You should stretch,” Illumi said, pressing both palms to the short-trimmed grass. 

“I’m naturally bendy,” Hisoka said with a wink. Illumi glared at him through the end of his ponytail. He finished his stretches in a few minutes, finally hefting his stick in one hand and cradling a ball absently. 

“Ready?” Hisoka asked. 

“Yes.” 

They passed in silence at first, but it was amicable. Illumi liked the mindlessness of passing, and Hisoka liked Illumi. The sun beat down on them mercilessly, reddening their cheeks, darkening their knees. They had both forgone padding, the result of a shared adolescent arrogance. 

“I’m bored,” Illumi said, after ten minutes of solid, effortless passing. Hisoka caught the ball and did some flashy tricks with his stick. Illumi watched, unimpressed. 

“Wanna do one-v-one’s?” 

“Okay,” Illumi said. He knelt on the grass and tied his cleats a little tighter, glancing at Hisoka with narrowed eyes. 

“You’re a middie,” Hisoka said, “so you should defend first.” Illumi’s mouth twisted. He had not wanted to be a middie. His father had been unhappy when he saw the starting lineup Illumi's freshman year.

_You’re not an attackman._

_No._

_What a waste._ Illumi hadn’t bothered asking the coach why. He knew what his coach would say. 

_There are holes in the middle that we need you to fill._

_You can run circles around everyone else on the team, we need your stamina._

_It’s about distributing the talent._

“That’s fine,” Illumi said, stretching both arms overhead. 

“Going to goal?” Hisoka asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Are we allowing checks?” 

“Yes,” Illumi said, bouncing on the balls of his feet already. Hisoka looked reluctant. 

“We don’t have padding on.”

“We can both take a hit,” Illumi said, head cocking, as if daring Hisoka to say otherwise. 

“I’m bigger than you,” Hisoka pointed out. 

“Barely,” Illumi spat, standing up to his full height. They were of comparable height--Hisoka was half an inch taller. But their difference in weight was a bit more drastic. 

Hisoka had more width in the shoulders and more muscle on his arms. Illumi was less bulky on top, but it hardly mattered when it came down to it. He was strong in the legs. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Hisoka said with a shrug. 

“I never said it was.” Hisoka could feel the sun burning at his neck. It was getting late. 

“Okay, fine, we’ll allow checks.” Illumi seemed satisfied. He tapped his stick on the ground and lowered himself into a light squat. Hisoka flashed him a smile and ran his tongue over his teeth. 

Illumi sent him a hard pass and they began. 

Hisoka was fast. Faster and defter than his size suggested. But, Illumi was faster still. He braced himself against Hisoka, chest to shoulder. The goal at his back was getting closer as they danced forward. 

Hisoka could smell the cool, sharp scent of Illumi’s deodorant and the sweeter chemical of citrus disinfectant, which he knew Illumi used on his gear. Illumi’s hair flashed in front of Hisoka's gaze as he tried to spin and push forward. He dug his heel into the ground, prepared to push off, using his weight to his advantage. 

Quicker than he thought possible, a massive weight struck him head-on. For a moment, he was suspended in the air, and then the breath whooshed out of his lungs and he fell back onto the grass, hard, head ringing and chest aching like a bad case of heartburn. 

“Jesus _Christ_ , Illumi,” Hisoka wheezed. A flock of geese flew overhead in a deformed V. It was all Hisoka could see, on account of his vision blurring at the edges through his helmet.

A pale blank face appeared above him, slightly flushed at the cheeks. He looked Hisoka over and then grinned, boyish and triumphant. 

“That was a legal check,” he said.

“I know,” Hisoka said sourly, his voice still strained. “You hit me like a draft horse, though.” Illumi toed his calf.

“Get up, you can defend this time.”

“Give me a second,” Hisoka said faintly, squinting up at the sky. The geese were gone. All that was left was the fat, fluffy underside of a cloud. Hisoka felt as if his head was filled with that stuff right now. 

“Come on,” Illumi said impatiently. 

“That _hurt_.” 

“You can get me back, now.” 

“I didn’t realize you defended like that,” Hisoka said, cheeks heating up. He had just been humiliated. 

“I ease up during practice. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I am a midfielder, you know. Our job is defense and offense. I don’t know why you’re so surprised that I’m good at checking.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka sighed, “I’m good.” He sat up gingerly and pressed his hand to his sternum. 

“You’re being dramatic,” Illumi said flatly. 

“Kiss it better?” 

Illumi didn’t justify that with a response. He watched balefully as Hisoka stood up and cracked his back with a sigh. 

“Okay,” and he positioned himself goalside, in front of Illumi. His smile turned dark. 

“Let’s go.” 

* * *

They tired themselves out by six. The sun was starting to set. Hisoka stripped his shirt and collapsed onto his back. 

“Tired,” he said blissfully. 

“Tired,” Illumi agreed. He kept his shirt on, but he had his shorts hiked up, shoes and socks off. 

His pale toes wriggled to air themselves out. 

Hisoka held out a bottle of water and they drank in companionable silence. 

“Can you stretch me?” Hisoka asked suddenly, glancing at Illumi, who was still drinking. His throat bobbed tantalizingly, sweat dripping down his adam’s apple. It was pornographic.

“Seriously?” Illumi asked, setting the water down. 

“Please.” 

Illumi stood up with a groan and grabbed Hisoka’s ankle. 

“Lie down,” he commanded. Hisoka obeyed. Illumi took Hisoka’s ankle and lifted his leg up until it was perpendicular to the ground. 

“Ow.” 

“Not very bendy,” Illumi noted dryly. He proceeded to push Hisoka’s leg back more, bracing it on his shoulder and using his other hand to keep Hisoka’s knee from bending. 

“You can push a little more,” Hisoka said hoarsely. Illumi pushed a little more, maintaining eye-contact. His chest rose and fell faster than normal, sweat still gleaming on his skin. Illumi’s thumb pressed into the back of Hisoka’s knee. The skin was sweaty there, but so were Illumi’s hands. He rubbed his thumb a little harder, massaging the muscle there. 

The girl’s soccer team, two fields over, started playing loud trap music as they ran. 

The spell broke. 

“Other leg,” Illumi said quietly. Hisoka lifted his other leg, and this time, there was no eye-contact, just Illumi pressing hard against Hisoka’s leg, until Hisoka winced and told him that was enough. 

“Do you want me to do you?” He asked when Illumi set his leg down. 

“It’s okay,” Illumi said, sitting down to put his converse back on. 

“When’s your meeting with your teacher?” 

“In an hour.” 

“Let’s go to the dining hall then.” Hisoka raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response. Illumi just nodded. 

“Off we go,” Hisoka said, skipping forward with renewed vigor. 

“Off we go,” Illumi echoed, following after him a step behind. The sun lit the top of Hisoka’s hair, brightening the red until it looked nearly ablaze. Illumi was suddenly reminded of “Scheherezade”, of lamprey eels swaying like strands of hair at the bottom of a lake, of a high school crush as hard as a dog bite, and the sweet, blessed intimacy of someone else’s pencil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I got this chapter out a lot quicker than I expected, mostly because I was feeling bad for not updating my other fic, "A Visit From the Zoldycks", yet. But, that update is coming soon! Probably at the end of this week. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I'm sorry to all the lacrosse players out there. I hope I didn't butcher your sport too much. :)


	3. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illumi does some community service. Hisoka meddles in a high school crush. Poor Chrollo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still not sure if i want to continue this fic, but i keep writing chapters so i guess its a sign!

Hisoka started regularly stealing Chrollo’s seat in English class. Machi, who used to sit with Chrollo on her left, now had Hisoka there. Chrollo was relegated to her right. She seemed to find it funny, Chrollo’s seething indignance about the situation. Hisoka also seemed to find it funny. Illumi didn’t really notice. 

When it came time for the English class to tackle their term projects, Hisoka slammed his hand over Illumi’s and declared him as his partner. Chrollo sourly took Machi, who seemed as reluctant as he was to partner together. 

Illumi didn’t react to being claimed so violently. He just bobbed his head with the mellow indifference of an aquarium fish. 

“Can I come to your house to work on the project?” Hisoka asked, leaning in close. Illumi stared him down for a moment.

“No.” 

“Aw, but--”

“We’ll work in the library, tomorrow at four.” Illumi blew a slow bubble with his gum, holding eye contact as it deflated a few seconds later. Hisoka sighed. 

“Okay. Tomorrow, the library, four.” 

Class dismissed. 

* * *

_Can we meet at my room instead :D_

_We’re supposed to meet at the library._

_Aw pls something came up just come to my room_

Illumi sighed loudly, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He had no doubt this was some perverted ploy on Hisoka’s part, but they had limited time to finish this project, and Illumi didn’t want to have to explain a subpar grade to his parents, not after what happened last time. 

Hisoka lived in one of the best dorms on campus, smaller, with only sixteen boys there. It was cleaner than any other boy’s dormitory and it was situated right where the campus melted into the forest. At night, against the backdrop of the trees, it looked like some ancient castle, glowing yellow in the darkness. 

Right now, it just looked like a boy’s dormitory, brick and white columns and a spired roof. 

“Hisoka,” Illumi said, knocking on the door with his foot. 

“Come in,” an oddly subdued voice said. Illumi peered into the room, an eyebrow raised. Hisoka was sitting on his bed, wearing _glasses,_ brows furrowed as he hunched over a laptop he had borrowed from the school. 

The cool white light from the screen illuminated a tired face with shadows under his exquisite eyes--exquisite as described begrudgingly by Machi, not Illumi’s own words.

“Hello,” Hisoka said quietly. He swiped his tongue over his lip and typed a little more on his laptop. 

“Are you alright?” Illumi asked hesitantly. Hisoka smiled, cheeks rounding. 

“Just a little overwhelmed.” He leaned back onto his hands and looked Illumi over. 

“That’s a new coat,” he said, gesturing to the brown Barbour jacket he was wearing. 

“I’ve had it for a while,” Illumi said with a shrug. 

“You don’t wear it often,” Hisoka pointed out. 

“What are you typing?” 

“An essay for Econ.” Illumi frowned. 

“You don’t take Econ,” he said. Hisoka snorted, rubbing his face with one hand. 

“Oh, I know,” he said, laughing dryly. “I had to teach myself all this bullshit about--well, you don’t care.” 

“Why are you writing an essay for a class you don’t take?” Illumi asked, thoroughly confused now. Hisoka’s demeanor right now was odd, and by odd, he meant very human. 

“You don’t know?” Hisoka asked, head cocking. “I write essays for money, and do homework, sometimes. Mostly essays.” 

“Who would be that lazy?” Illumi asked incredulously. 

“Killua, for one, four times this year. Milluki, too, but just once.” 

“Four times?” Illumi echoed. “He’s twelve! What kind of work is he even assigned?” 

“Dunno, he has a teacher who’s a real bitch, apparently. Ms. Krueger, I think.” 

“You write essays for money?” Illumi asked, feeling still a little mystified. It sort of made sense. Hisoka was smart, and kids at this school were no doubt willing to pay lots of money to get out of work. 

“Not all of us have trust funds for our trust funds.” 

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Illumi spat. Hisoka grinned tiredly. 

“So, that’s what has you all stressed, an essay that you’ve been paid to write?” 

“It’s due tomorrow. It’s supposed to be five to seven pages. I have four done. I’m just stuck, but it’s fine. You came to work on our project for English so let’s do that.” 

“Do you need help?” Illumi asked. He had never seen Hisoka so genuinely wrung out, not even during a close lacrosse match. Even then, hair damp with sweat, knees red, muscles trembling with exertion, he had a smug little smile on his face and his eyes were alight with eagerness. 

“We have to do our project,” Hisoka said weakly. 

“I’ll help you, and then we can do our project. How much is this kid paying for this essay?”

“Well, it’s a $25 flat fee which includes the first page. Every page after that is five dollars up until seven pages. Anything more than seven pages has a flat fee of $100. I won’t write more than twelve.”

“You aren’t charging enough,” Illumi said, eyes scanning over what Hisoka had already written so far. 

“My rates are fine,” Hisoka said with a dismissive wave. “I just need to finish this.” 

“Okay, then let’s finish it,” Illumi said, kicking off his shoes.

* * *

Illumi learned a few things about Hisoka in their two hours of working together. He smelled very good, but not in the boy way that wafted from half-open aftershave bottles in the locker rooms. Hisoka smelled of bright and sweet things--coconut and strawberries, the kinds of things they made scratch and sniff stickers for. 

He was also a very good writer. Despite his limited knowledge of Econ, he had put together a striking essay, probably a little too good for the fifty or so dollars he would be paid. 

Hisoka was also not as irritating as he pretended to be. Not so perverted, not so smug or bold. 

“We haven’t even started our project,” Hisoka said, staring blearily at the finished essay on his laptop. Illumi shrugged. 

“I’ll work on it tonight and then we can meet tomorrow and clean it up.” 

“I can help,” Hisoka insisted. Illumi shook his head. 

“You’re tired. Whatever you add is going to be terrible.” His voice was flat and loveless, but the gesture was unexpectedly kind. Illumi’s phone buzzed: Killua. 

_Car’s here._

“I’ve got to go.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka said, looking considerably less miserable than when Illumi had first walked in. “Thank you, for helping me,” he added. Illumi allowed himself a smug smile. 

“Well, of course. Like you said, I needed the community service hours.” Hisoka seemed to find that very funny. He laughed, throwing a pillow at Illumi’s head. Illumi dodged it with little effort, looking indignant. 

“You’re funny,” Hisoka said, glancing at him sideways. 

“Thank you,” Illumi sniffed. 

“What are you doing this weekend?” 

“Going home.” Illumi said this very matter-of-factly, like the thought of anything else was not even in his window of possibility. 

“You should stay on campus.”

“No thank you, public housing doesn’t appeal to me.” Illumi bent down to lace up his sneakers. Hisoka watched contentedly as Illumi’s uniform pants stretched a little obscenely at the motion. 

“You know, Chrollo has a huge crush on you.” 

“Mystifying,” Illumi muttered. 

“You haven’t noticed?” Hisoka pressed. 

“I thought you were tired.” Hisoka pulled his bed covers up to his midriff and glanced suggestively at Illumi. 

“You rile me up.” 

“I haven’t noticed he’s had a crush on me, and I doubt he does.” 

“You’re super oblivious Illumi, it’s kind of cute.” Big black eyes narrowed at Hisoka with loosely concealed irritation. 

“I just did you a favor, stop harassing me. My car’s waiting.” Hisoka waved him goodbye. Illumi closed the door, gentle but firm. 

* * *

Chrollo and Shalnark arrived a few minutes late to the lunch block, throwing their bags down at Machi and Phinks’ table. 

“I feel like you should just ask him out,” Shalnark said, ever the optimist. He was clearly answering a question from Chrollo that the rest of the group hadn’t been privy to, but they seemed to understand the context immediately.

Feitan, perched on the wooden ledge by the window, snorted. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. Machi hummed in agreement, brows furrowed at a blank document on her laptop. 

“My love for him is overwhelming,” Chrollo groaned, picking half-heartedly at a bowl of dry cereal. Feitan and Machi shared a dubious glance. 

“You should say exactly that, he would love it!” 

“You’re sabotaging him, Shalnark,” Machi said roughly. Chrollo crushed a piece of cereal under the heel of his palm. 

“I guess I could wait until the lacrosse season, but by then, the year will almost be over.” 

“Also, he’s a hardo during lacrosse season,” Phinks said. “You aren’t going to get anywhere. Either ask him out now or stop pining. It’s getting pathetic, dude.” 

“You should write him a love letter.” Hisoka’s voice wasn’t necessarily loud but it carried from two tables away. He was grinning over a plate of pancakes. 

“A love letter…” Chrollo mused, tapping his bottom lip, unbothered by Hisoka’s eavesdropping. 

“Illumi is super traditional,” Hisoka said, sliding into the empty seat next to Chrollo. “Trust me.” 

“A love letter!” Shalnark seemed delighted by the idea. Machi opened her mouth and then closed it. 

“You’re a talented writer,” Hisoka continued, leaning back into his chair. “Write him a really long letter, all the reasons why you love him. He’ll eat it right up.” Chrollo’s eyes gleamed. 

“That’s actually a good idea,” he said, smiling to himself. 

“I know.” 

“You stole my seat in English,” Chrollo said suddenly, turning in his seat to face Hisoka. His big serious eyes were rimmed underneath in gray. Oily black lashes stuck out from both his top and bottom lashes. Chrollo wasn’t unattractive. He proved this every year at the first meeting of the Christian Student Association--there was always a pack of freshmen girls, heathens, but so mesmerized by Chrollo and his slicked-back hair and his poetry that they sat through his soul-deadening meetings just to see him speak. 

“I had a crick in my neck. It was easier to look at the board from the angle of your seat,” Hisoka said with a shrug. It was such a blatant lie that Chrollo didn’t even seem offended by it. 

“I should start that letter soon,” he said instead. Machi and Feitan shared another glance, similar to the first one.

“I have a lot to do today,” he said briskly, standing up and clutching his bag to his chest. 

“The Big Boss is busy,” Feitan said under his breath. Machi looked up from her laptop to laugh. 

“Bye, everyone. Good luck with classes today.” Chrollo, invigorated by a high school crush and a plan, strode out of the dining hall, straightening his tie and throwing a polite kiss to the cross hung above the entrance. 

Hisoka sank in the chair with a self-satisfied smile. 

“You’re evil,” Machi said, glaring at him. 

“You could have stopped me,” Hisoka said with a shrug. Machi scowled. 

“You’ve got a twisted way of showing your affection, Hisoka. You clearly like Illumi, stop sabotaging Chrollo for the fun of it.” 

“That’s not why I’m doing this.” Hisoka’s voice was light but his eyes glinted coolly. 

“Well, I have to get to class. I wrote absolutely zero words for this essay, thanks for nothing, everyone.” Feitan hopped off the ledge and joined her, muttering in that low, snide tone of his. 

Hisoka watched the table slowly empty of students until it was just him. He fetched his plate of pancakes from the other table, propped his feet on the neighboring chair, and finally enjoyed his breakfast in peace.

* * *

Hisoka saw Illumi again two days later on the steps, holding an assortment of papers in his hand. The sun was getting very low in the sky, nearing sunset. The campus was quiet, the sky interrupted only by a loose V of geese flying south. Autumn was starting to fade to winter, red, crunchy leaves and hot afternoons handing the baton to gray skies and blankets of snow and yellow grass peeking from in between sidewalks. Fiery orange light turned Illumi’s black hair to gold. 

“Whatcha got there?” Hisoka chirped, trotting down the stairs, two steps at a time. 

“A love letter,” Illumi said coldly. He looked as immaculate as ever in his school uniform, his collar starched, sweater fitted perfectly. He was wearing a belt with his pants, and even though it lacked obvious logos, it was clear it was designer. The leather was a rich brown and pebbled, and the hardware glinted with the promise of real gold plating. Hisoka stopped when he was on the same stair as Illumi. His eyebrows raised. 

“Wow, that’s a lot of pages, and it’s handwritten!” Illumi sat down wearily, crossing his legs at the ankle. 

“Hisoka,” he said darkly, eyes scanning the letter, the first page of it, at least. 

“Hm?”

“You did this.” 

“Actually, Chrollo wrote it, see? Right--” Hisoka had to flip through the pages for a second, “Here. He signed his name.” 

“You _told_ him to do this, I know you.” 

“What did he say?” 

“Read it, if you’re so interested.” 

“But I want _you_ to read it!” Illumi glared at Hisoka, properly glared, and then held the letter closer to his face to read. 

“He said that I have beautiful eyes, _like pools of water on a starless night_ , and that my hair is--this is ridiculous.” 

“Keep going,” Hisoka said, eyeing the pink clustering on the high parts of Illumi’s cheeks. 

“That my hair is _as precious as silk_ . He appreciates my skill in lacrosse, trusts me to _hold the game in my slender but capable hands, to lead us to victory regardless of the odds_.” Illumi’s voice was slipping into something more relaxed, more breathless. Hisoka leaned forward. 

“He likes the way our uniform looks on me, and the way I help him in math class without him having to ask. He finds it impressive that I have all the trigonometric function graphs memorized.” There was a heavy pause. 

“He thinks I have nice legs,” Illumi croaked. _You have lovely legs_ , Hisoka wanted to say. Illumi kept reading, in silence now, eyes growing wide and soft. His hair refused to stay tucked behind his ear, so he let it fall, half obscuring his expression. 

They sat in silence together, the only sound interrupting their peace being the gentle shuffle of pages as Illumi made his way through the letter. 

“It’s good,” Illumi bit out quietly. 

“Chrollo is a very good writer,” Hisoka agreed. 

When Illumi finally finished reading, his expression was subdued. He tucked the pages back into their envelope gently, with the same kind of covert kindness that he showed to Killua sometimes. 

“Was this--” Illumi surprised himself with how hoarse his voice was, as if he had forgotten how to use it. “Was this your sick way of confessing?” 

Hisoka fiddled with the ragged end of his shoelace. 

“You’re so self-centered, Illumi. I just thought it would be funny.” His smile tightened at the corners, even as his voice came out strained. Illumi stood, clenching the letter in his hand, gaze fixed at a point in the yellow horizon. 

“It wasn’t funny.” 

“I’ll think of something better next time,” Hisoka said lazily, heart hammering in his chest. 

“It wasn’t funny,” Illumi said again, lower this time. At the far end of campus, waning sunlight glanced off the hood of the Zoldyck’s silver Bentley. It cruised coolly up the road, rolling to a stop in front of the steps where Illumi and Hisoka had been sitting. Killua opened the door for Illumi from inside the car, peering out at him and Hisoka. His clever blue eyes narrowed slightly. 

Illumi shoved the envelope into his pocket and slammed the car door behind him, cutting off Killua’s searching gaze. And just like that, the Zoldyck car was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked it see ya!


	4. The Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween chapter! Plus more lacrosse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Illumi uses the f-slur during an argument with Hisoka. I don't in any way condone this behavior in real life and I don't think this reflects his character as a whole, especially in this fic. if it in any way bothers you, for your sake, please don't read! 
> 
> other than that, please enjoy!

Halloween came careening out of nowhere, bringing with it darker skies and lashing showers and the smell of burning Ashwood. Lovingly carved pumpkins dotted the campus, along with massive clumps of fake cobwebs, and a few crooked skeletons made of styrofoam. 

“This is hard,” Hisoka muttered. Machi leaned over, an eyebrow raising. 

“You suck at sewing.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m not a woman.” It was a cheap blow that earned him a smack on the back of his head. 

“I’ll do it for you if you do my math homework.” Machi was actually very good at math, but she took on all academic pursuits with an almost unbelievable passivity.

She liked making clothes. Statistics weren’t really calling her name. 

“You screwed up the hem,” she said with a sigh, ripping out the seams with casual ease. 

“Sorry,” Hisoka said, tucking into her math homework. She had already done half of it. 

“I didn’t see your costume,” he said, absently chewing on her pencil. 

“It’s not done yet. Shizuku and Pakunoda and I are going to be the Powerpuff girls.” 

“Do you think Illumi’s going to come?” Hisoka asked. He heard Machi exhale in amusement. Her sharp eyes glanced over at him, glinting knowingly. 

“He never has before. I wonder if his parents really are that strict or if he’s just a hermit.” 

“I think it’s a bit of both.” 

“Chrollo is still moping about that letter thing, you know.” 

“I don’t even know what happened!” Machi gave Hisoka a disapproving look. 

“It was mean and you know it, to both of them. Chrollo, bless him, is a little crazy, and he has lots of friends to entertain him. Illumi doesn’t. He’s already an outsider. There’s no point in pushing him out even further.” 

“I wasn’t pushing him out,” Hisoka muttered. 

“Whatever.” 

“Did Illumi give the letter back?” Hisoka asked. He and Illumi hadn’t spoken since, really. They had abandoned their lacrosse practices and Illumi had finished their English project by himself, emailing Hisoka the pdf two days before it was due.

“It was sweet, actually,” Machi mused. “He wrote Chrollo a letter back, handed it to him after classes. It was all very old-fashioned, like a high school movie.” Hisoka looked at her. 

“Chrollo wouldn’t let us read it,” Machi added, understanding his question, “but Feitan snatched it one night when he was sleeping. It was just a very polite no. He alluded that _maybe_ he had his eyes on someone else, but grain of salt, Hisoka.” Hisoka wasn’t listening. His hearing had gone as soon as Machi had said _someone else._

It had to be him. 

There was no one Illumi even interacted with on a social basis. 

“It could be someone from his old school. It could be someone in his neighborhood. Don’t get your hopes up.” 

“You’re such a pessimist.” 

“And you’re a sleazy saboteur,” Machi hissed. There was a pause. “Who sucks at sewing.” 

The night of Halloween fell on a Thursday. Belmont, knowing their own limits as an institution, gave the school the day off on Friday, a “chance to catch up on work” as they put it. 

Hisoka did, in fact, have work to catch up on, but tonight was Halloween. Anything for school could be allocated to the weekend. 

Standing at the corner of the path next to Hisoka dorm were three figures, hard to recognize in the fading dusk light. Two were little and one was tall. 

Hisoka squinted and then felt a grin stretch his mouth. 

It was Gon, Killua, and Illumi. Unsurprisingly, Illumi was not in costume. He had on a sharp-looking jacket and jeans, and, as always, his favorite pair of beat-up converse. 

Gon and Killua had decided to go as each other for Halloween. Killua had seemingly spray-painted his hair dark and spiked it up with copious amounts of hair gel. Some of the spray had bled into the skin on his temples. He had on Gon’s favorite green sweater and his brown boots. Gon was wearing a white wig, slightly off-kilter, and a navy turtleneck over a gray shirt. 

“I like your costumes,” Hisoka called, striding up to them with his hands in his pockets. 

“Yours is pretty good,” Killua said, eyes narrowing, as if realizing suddenly that his and Gon’s were lacking. 

“You’re a clown?” Gon asked. 

I’m one of those clowns who was killing people in the woods,” Hisoka corrected. Killua’s eyes widened and then he grinned. 

“Oh, that’s a _really_ good costume.” 

Hisoka lifted his gaze up to Illumi. 

“Where’s your costume?” 

“I’m not a child,” Illumi said coolly. 

“You have to dress up. Seniors get late curfew to trick or treat.” 

“I just said--”

“You should dress up,” Killua said very seriously. Gon was already trying to sneak away, tugging at Killua’s hand. 

“I need to supervise--” 

“We’ll be back before curfew, bye!” Gon and Killua scampered off, disappearing down the hill. 

Illumi sighed, looking Hisoka up and down. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“I’m a murder-clown.” 

“That doesn’t even--” 

“What, make sense? Why does it need to make sense?” 

“It’s stupid,” Illumi said flatly. 

“So is showing up to Halloween without a costume, Illumi. You need to wear one, or you’ll get bullied.” That had been a joke. No one was bullying people for forgoing costumes, but the threat seemed to linger in Illumi’s mind. His eyes narrowed. 

“You think so?” 

“Maybe,” Hisoka said vaguely. 

“Do you have an extra costume?” He asked, gaze suddenly very intense. Hisoka clapped his hands in delight. 

“No, but I have an extra bedsheet!” Illumi seemed bewildered, but he wasn’t given time to ask questions. Hisoka whisked him up the stairs to his room. 

He had spent all day yesterday cutting out strings of paper bats and pumpkins and ghosts and then hanging them around his room. He had even colored the lightbulb in his lamp orange and the lightbulb in his ceiling light purple with permanent markers he had found in his drawers. 

Illumi stared at the decorations in silence, eyes wide and keen. Hisoka, meanwhile, shuffled through his closet until he produced a big white sheet. 

“Ha!” And without warning, he threw it over Illumi’s head. 

Illumi didn’t startle, he stood very still and serious as Hisoka took a marker and gently pressed two fingers where he expected Illumi’s eyeballs to be. He missed, just barely. 

“Eyebrows,” Illumi muttered unnecessarily. Hisoka could tell. With a little chuckle, he drew two wobbly circles on the sheet and then pulled it off Illumi. 

“Now, we cut out the eye holes and you’re a ghost!” Illumi put up no protest. He watched silently as Hisoka cut out two circles and then threw the sheet back onto Illumi and stood at a few feet’s distance to get a good look. 

He immediately burst out laughing.

“Is it bad?” Illumi asked, blinking owlishly. Hisoka, still in the throes of hysterics, shook his head frantically. 

“No, it’s _perfect_!” Illumi flawlessly embodied the concept of a bedsheet ghost. He had the big, soulless eyes for it and the sort of lost, slow movements of someone stuck in a spiritual purgatory. 

Hisoka bent down and tucked the ends of the sheet into Illumi’s socks. 

“Ghosts don’t have sneakers,” Illumi pointed out flatly. 

“This one does,” Hisoka said, patting his knee in consolation. “You’re going to trip otherwise.” When he got a look at Illumi again, the same laugh bubbled to the surface. Now, Illumi was the same bedsheet ghost, just with a pair of dirty white converse on his feet. 

“You’re so funny, Illumi,” Hisoka said good-naturedly. 

“Now what?” Illumi asked flatly, gesturing to his costume.

“Well, there’s the haunted house,” Hisoka mused, “and obviously, trick or treating at the headmaster’s house. There’s a midnight dance in PTAB--” (Previously The Admissions Building, an old, high-ceilinged auditorium that the seniors tended to frequent).

“I’ve never been to a haunted house,” Illumi said, fingering a slightly bent paper bat that was hanging off the end of Hisoka’s curtain rod. 

“Then we’ll go. I think Chrollo’s playing someone in it.” Illumi went suddenly very tense. Hisoka winced. That had been a sore spot, then. 

“Okay,” Illumi said, his breath fluttering the sheet. 

The haunted house had been set up at the offices adjacent to PTAB. It was so well-executed every year that it had become a public affair. People from neighboring towns and schools came and paid the fifteen-collar cover charge that was applied to non-Belmont students without complaint. 

Hisoka had gone every year since attending Belmont. He had always wanted to participate in it for community service hours--which had been a point of contention between the community service committee and everyone else. But, he had never found the time. 

Machi was in charge of the costumes this year and by proxy, most of her friend group had wriggled their way into playing characters in the haunted house. Hisoka, in a rare streak of naivete, didn’t think anything of it.

* * *

“It doesn’t look very scary,” Illumi said, staring dubiously at the entrance, which was blocked off with black curtains and framed in cobwebs and taped-on styrofoam bones. 

“Well we aren’t inside yet,” Hisoka said. 

“If it’s boring, can we leave?” 

“Sure,” Hisoka said, knowing it wouldn’t be. Illumi, nevertheless, seemed satisfied. He parted the black curtain and slipped inside. 

They were accosted by a student from the grade below dressed in a school-girl uniform and drenched in fake blood. 

“Welcome!” She squeaked. Illumi gave Hisoka another doubtful look. 

“You’re cute,” Hisoka said with a smirk. The girl reddened under a sheen of fake blood. 

“Um,” she began. Hisoka and Illumi, were, after all, two starting seniors on the varsity boys’ lacrosse team at a New England prep school. To anyone younger than them, they were as close to gods as it got. 

“I’m just here to go over the rules with you. No running, no outside beverages or food, no defacement of property, no pushing or shoving, and no illuminating objects, like flashlights.” 

“Okay,” Illumi said. 

“Okay,” she echoed, bracing her shoulder against a heavy-looking door, slick with even more fake blood. 

“Have fun!” And then the door was closing behind Hisoka and Illumi with an ominous thud. 

“It’s still not scary,” Illumi whispered. 

“It hasn’t started yet,” Hisoka hissed back. The clown paint he had done was starting to get itchy now. He delicately scratched his nose with his fingernail. 

“ _Come_ ,” someone whispered. Illumi stiffened in an almost feline way, head cocking suspiciously. 

They went. 

The first thing they saw as the hallway spilled into a room was a dark figure hunched over a medical table. There was a corpse on the table, shrouded in white cloth. 

Artificial body parts floated in jars on the shelves. 

The dark figure let out a gurgling laugh and the lights flickered overhead. 

Someone a few rooms ahead of them screamed, and as Hisoka and Illumi glanced in that direction, the figure, a doctor, they realized, ripped the cloth away from the corpse and cackled as someone in frankly horrifying makeup sat straight up and groaned. 

The doctor and the patient lunged in tandem for Hisoka and Illumi, moaning enthusiastically. Hisoka shrieked nervously, still laughing as he did it, but Illumi was stock still, eyes widening and then narrowing in scrutiny, like the focus of a camera. 

“Well, that doesn’t even make sense,” he said flatly. Hisoka’s laughter died off. The zombie patient and the zombie doctor both slowed, looking confused. 

“Why would the doctor _also_ be a zombie? And why would he be operating on _another_ zombie, it just doesn’t--” 

“Come on,” Hisoka said, pulling Illumi along by his wrist. 

“This was a poorly planned haunted house,” Illumi hissed as they shimmied through a narrow corridor lined with plastic severed limbs. The lights flickered on and off violently, casting odd, fragmented shadows on the highs of their cheeks. 

“You’re such a buzzkill.” 

\--

The haunted house seemed to be exceeding Illumi’s very low expectations. A person in a straight-jacket jumped out at them from an alcove with a covered drinking fountain and Hisoka had to hold Illumi’s wrist so he didn’t punch the poor kid out of reflex. 

That had gotten both of them. 

A coffin creaked open to reveal a bored-looking Feitan in vampire garb. It wouldn’t have been very scary, but then the lights cut out and someone, a la Carrie, poured blood _everywhere._

\--

They were nearly at the end when Hisoka felt that they were being followed. He glanced at Illumi, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was clutching Hisoka jacket very aggressively, but more out of some strange possession than fear. 

Hisoka had learned that everyone reacted differently to being scared. He himself was a laugher, usually, or a screamer and then a laugher, if it was really scary. 

Illumi resorted immediately to violence, which had been both stressful and hilarious as they made their way through the haunted house. 

“We’re almost through,” he whispered. Illumi scoffed. 

“This wasn’t even that--” He was interrupted by the sudden and terrifying appearance of many bodies.

Hisoka didn’t see much, just the slightly incriminating flash of a gold cross necklace--Shizuku, and the familiar blonde of either Phinks or Shalnark, or maybe Pakunoda. 

And with that, they were shoved into a closet that had materialized behind them and the door was slammed shut. 

Illumi tried to open it, with no success.

Hisoka tried immediately after. 

“We’re trapped,” Illumi said as Hisoka shouldered the door one more time. They were stuck in a glorified filing cabinet: a closet that maybe should have been for cleaning supplies but was instead filled with undoubtedly confidential files, stacked to the ceiling. 

This meant that Illumi and Hisoka had essentially three square feet of space between the two of them. 

“This was them,” Hisoka said with a sigh, sinking down to the floor with mock despair. 

“Them?” 

“Chrollo’s--Machi’s friend group. It’s a prank Illumi. We’re being pranked.” 

“It’s not very funny,” Illumi remarked. 

“Well, it’s not supposed to be funny for us.” 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Illumi demanded, eyes narrowing with suspicion. Hisoka scoffed. 

“You’re really self-centered, you know that?” 

“I hate haunted houses.” 

“This wasn’t that bad,” Hisoka groused. Illumi sat down a moment later, legs tangling uncomfortably with Hisoka’s. 

If they had been a little smaller, it might have been more pleasant, but as it were, their limbs were folded in a way that would soon become unbearable. 

“I actually didn’t hate this,” Illumi admitted into the silence. “The haunted house, I mean.” Hisoka glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Told you.” 

“Whatever.” 

“Do you want to practice this weekend?” Lacrosse hung between them like the memory of an old breakup. Illumi hesitated, and then said, with zero conviction: 

“It’s raining this weekend.” 

“We’ll go in the morning, then, before it starts.” 

“I don’t live on campus, Hisoka, you know that.” 

“Have your driver take you. Would it be so hard?” Truthfully, spending a Saturday away from home would be nice, Illumi knew. And Hisoka was right--it wouldn’t be hard. 

Lacrosse with Hisoka was a mildly uncomfortable experience. Though it was always friendly, there was an underlying competition that neither of them could shake, a desperation that hardened every check and challenge. 

And when they were done, sprawled out on the turf, sweat-slick and exhausted, the silence that followed wasn’t one of satisfaction. It was thick with things unsaid, a quiet torture. 

_He’s gotten better,_ they would both think to themselves, half-bitter, half-delighted. 

“Okay,” Illumi said finally, “I’ll come to campus at six.” 

“In the morning?” Hisoka demanded, wide-eyed. 

“Yes.” 

“I guess I’ll take it,” Hisoka said with a sigh, slumping further against a rigid pile of papers. 

In the background, a pair of girls screamed and then laughed hysterically. Illumi rubbed at his eyes through the bedsheet. 

“We need to go home soon,” he said to himself. Hisoka took “we” to be him and Milluki and Killua. 

“They’ll let us out soon,” Hisoka promised. Illumi nodded, once again mostly to himself. 

“Wanna take off your bedsheet?” Hisoka asked, smiling. Illumi’s eyes narrowed. 

“Are you going to do something gross?” 

“Not unless you want me to.” 

The bedsheet came off. Illumi folded it carefully into a square and set it on Hisoka’s very close lap. 

The sheet had mussed Illumi’s usually perfect hair, but not to the point of ruin. He ran his fingers through it absently, taming the flyaways. 

Hisoka was reminded, abruptly, of the letter Illumi had given Chrollo, of Machi’s reluctant recounting of it. He had been confident at first that he was the one Illumi had eyes for, but sitting next to Illumi now, it didn’t really feel like he was harboring a secret crush. 

His gaze was soft but soulless: totally empty. Hisoka had a feeling that was part of his appeal to most people. No one really looked like him. 

People had told Hisoka many times that he was handsome, but the most unique part about him was his hair, and that came out of a box. 

Illumi was pure-bred odd. 

“You’re staring at me.” 

“No,” Hisoka said, “I was reading the names on those files.” Illumi’s eyes narrowed at the lie, but he didn’t seem to have the energy to be contrary. 

“Have you ever had a girlfriend, Illumi?” 

“No,” Illumi said flatly. “Why?” 

“I dunno, I was just wondering. You could, you know, if you wanted.” 

“To have a girlfriend?” 

“Yeah, you’re--” Well, popular might have been a misnomer. Illumi was infamous and well-known and people thought he was super hot, but popular implied that he was also well-liked, and Hisoka didn’t really think that was the case. 

“You’re desired,” Hisoka settled on. Illumi’s brow quirked. He had really perfect eyebrows. 

“Well, when I decide I want a girlfriend, I’ll let you know, since you seem so interested.” 

“I said I was just curious,” Hisoka replied, defensive.

“Fine--” The door handle jiggled and then it swung open, bathing the two of them in brief, tortuous light. 

Machi was shining a flashlight at the two of them with a delighted grin on her face. 

“Did you two make out?” 

“Illumi took off his bedsheet,” Hisoka said dryly. 

“Damn. I owe Feitan a twenty.” 

“Illuminating objects aren’t allowed in the haunted house,” Illumi said, eyeing the flashlight sourly. Machi glanced at him, her big blue eyes lighting up with surprise. 

“My bad,” she said eventually, shooting Hisoka a glance. 

Illumi brushed by both her and Hisoka. He pulled his phone out--the newest and biggest model, no case--and started texting Killua and Milluki. 

“See you on Saturday,” he said, throwing up a hand that Hisoka took to be a very passionless wave. 

“What are you doing on Saturday?” Machi asked, eyebrows raising. 

“Lacrosse,” Hisoka said coyly. 

“Is that innuendo?” 

“Unfortunately, no.” 

“Ah.” The silence that settled after grew in breadth until neither of them really knew what else to say. Lights flickered artificially overhead. Someone, somewhere, giggled breathlessly. 

Machi and Hisoka stood side-by-side in the barely-there light of an empty haunted house and thought to themselves of Halloween costumes and Illumi Zoldyck, respectively. 

* * *

Hisoka set his alarm to 5:30 in the morning. It was optimistic, but he knew if he was late to his and Illumi’s planned practice time, he would get an earful. 

When he woke up, groggily shutting his alarm off, the air was heavy with moisture. He ripped back his curtains and sighed deeply. 

His window was already being lashed with rain. The grass lawn in front of his dorm was soaked. 

The turf would be okay; it was new and it had excellent drainage. But, that didn’t really make Hisoka feel better. 

_Its raining hard_

_Can we do a raincheck pls_

_Like a literal raincheck_

_I'm already here._

_Where?_

_Your dorm?_

And he was. 

Hisoka swung open the door and stared blearily at Illumi, who was standing very boredly in the hall, a lacrosse bag over one shoulder and his school bag over the other. 

“It’s 5:30, Illumi.” 

“5:35,” Illumi corrected. “Can I come in?” 

Hisoka stepped aside to let Illumi through. Illumi did a quick circle, observing Hisoka’s room as if it was new. 

“Your Halloween decorations are gone,” Illumi noticed. 

“It’s November,” Hisoka said. 

“Okay.” 

“Can we please not practice right now?” 

“That’s why I came early. I knew you’d try to get out of it.” Illumi was surprisingly intuitive. 

“It’s cold and it’s wet outside.” 

“I came all this way,” Illumi protested. 

“In your silver Bentley from your mansion,” Hisoka muttered under his breath. 

“Get dressed.”

* * *

Together, they trudged out into the rain and made their way down to the turf field. It seemed once Hisoka had brushed his teeth and put on a shirt, life came back to him. He skipped along the sidewalk, talking loudly to Illumi, who followed behind at a conservative pace. 

“What are you thinking about?” Hisoka asked. 

“Nothing,” Illumi said. Really, he was thinking about the way Hisoka shoved his boxer-briefs down and stepped out of them, flinging them into his hamper. And then the way he walked around, totally naked, humming absently as he tried to find clothes warm enough for the weather outside. 

Illumi wasn’t a prude. He had seen lots of naked bodies in locker rooms and on the internet and whatnot. But Hisoka had an exceptionally good body, the kind that felt almost obscene just to look at, even if he was parading it around at five-thirty in the morning, looking for clean sweatpants. 

“This weather is gross,” Hisoka said cheerily. Illumi grunted in agreement.

“I prefer the snow.” 

“Snow is better,” Hisoka agreed. He swung his stick playfully. Because of the weather, he had put on a long-sleeve workout shirt, a sweatshirt, and a raincoat. It made him look bulky, made him outsize Illumi even more, who was as sleek and svelte as a racehorse in head-to-toe rain performance gear. 

His jacket was fitted and had little holes for him to stick his thumbs through. His pants were water-treated as well, though the running shorts underneath weren’t. 

Overhead, a weak ray of sunlight suddenly broke through the oppressive gray. Hisoka basked in it, head tilting upwards. The watery light illuminated his profile. 

He had, Illumi noticed with a slightly jealous jolt, the most perfect profile he had ever seen, a nose that would grace the “after” photos in a rhinoplasty brochure. 

Despite himself, truly, he pulled out his phone and took a picture. 

Hisoka caught it out of the corner of his eye and grinned gleefully. 

“Am I your muse?” 

“Don’t be weird.” 

“Let me see the picture!” 

“Leave me alone.” Illumi pocketed his phone and pushed past Hisoka, picking up the pace a little. 

He had read somewhere, a long time ago, that running in the rain only got you wetter. He knew that, and still, he always walked a little faster when it rained, some primitive part of his brain refusing to acknowledge the paradox of it. 

Hisoka didn’t seem to be thinking about the physics of rain at all. He was zig-zagging like a dog at the park, slamming his heels into puddles and toeing at the spongy grass with mild disgust. 

When they finally reached the turf field, they threw their bags on the ground and shed their pants and jogged hurried laps around the perimeter of the field. 

Hisoka was a terrible person to run with. 

He had shockingly bad pace; he ran at his own whim, picking up and slowing down whenever he wanted. One moment, he would be jogging so slowly that a brisk walk could overtake him, and in the next, he was leaping forward with boundless energy. He was known to find seemingly inconceivable bursts of energy towards the ends of games, when every other attacker on the field was nearly spent. 

Illumi, quite the contrast, was lauded for his perfect pace-keeping. He almost always led the team runs, save for when he was injured, moving with almost machine-like consistency. His stamina and his subsequent control of it was what made their coach put him in the midfield. 

Illumi was almost parental in the way that he controlled their team on the field. He might not have been outrageously popular in class and or in any social circles, but everyone on the team respected him a great deal, in the same way that they begrudgingly respected Hisoka. Won over, it seemed, by their talent. 

Hisoka and Illumi ran drills they had memorized and then passed a ball and then shot on goal and then, when they couldn’t control the tremble in their legs, they collapsed on the damp turf like sacks of flour. 

Hisoka pillowed his head on Illumi’s sweat and rain-slick thigh. For a moment, Illumi looked affronted, like a cat being picked up by a stranger, but he was only like that for a minute. 

After, he seemed to relax, settling his weight back onto one palm and using his free hand to stroke idly through Hisoka’s wet hair. 

It was something Illumi had seen Killua do to Gon, had seen Shizuku and Pakunoda do to Machi. A learned behavior that he didn’t understand, really, the gravity of. 

Hisoka wasn’t eager to tell him either, that if anyone saw this, there would be dating rumors circulating the school like lice. He was content to press his cheek on Illumi’s muscled thigh and feel those cool, wet fingers run through his cool, wet hair. 

“I’m hungry,” Hisoka said, after their breathing had finally slowed. Illumi nodded, squinting against the rain. 

“Let’s shower in my room and then we can go to the dining hall,” said Hisoka. 

_How did this happen? When did he and Hisoka become friends?_

“Okay.” 

* * *

“You can shower first,” Hisoka said. It was startlingly polite. 

“Really?” 

“I just said so, didn’t I?” 

“I guess,” Illumi said warily. Hisoka had one of the nicer rooms on campus, which included an ensuite bathroom. 

It, like his room, was very neat and well-tended. He had an array of brightly-smelling body washes and soaps in the niche set in the shower wall. Illumi turned on the shower and gathered his clothes in a wet pile, careful to avoid dripping water on the bathmat. 

The bathroom smelled nice, like lavender essential oil. 

Illumi was ginger as he stepped into the shower, muscles protesting from their practice, stomach aching with bruises too stubborn to fade just yet. He used Hisoka’s body wash and his shampoo and conditioner. They were both marketed towards women, while the deodorant left on the bathroom counter was for men. 

Illumi knew not to read too much into it, but the image still struck him as funny, this dichotomy that Hisoka probably wasn’t even aware of. 

\--

Illumi was taking his sweet time in the shower and Hisoka was still wet and cold and starving. He scrolled through his phone absently, breezing through old notifications just to get them off his phone. 

His email went off and he clicked it without thinking. 

It was an email from his coach, the subject reading, “Let’s Talk”, and it had been sent to him, and Illumi. 

“Hey, Illumi, guess what--” Hisoka didn’t think much of going into the bathroom while Illumi was showering. They had seen each other in the locker rooms many times. 

But, when he opened the door and lifted his head, meeting Illumi’s wide-eyed gaze, the other boy froze and his hands moved immediately to cover himself. 

Except, not downward, where, after all, laid the usual motivation to wear clothing, but rather towards his middle. 

One arm wrapped around his ribcage, fingers splaying to hide a flowering yellow and green bruise, and the other wrapped around that first arm, covering another bruise, this one more red and finger-print-shaped. 

“Woah, did you fall down the stairs or something?”

“ _Get out_!” Illumi snarled, teeth baring in a way that was neither attractive nor amusing. 

Besides the bruises though, and the unbridled anger, he was a vision: lean and tall and pale and free of blemishes. His hair, silky with left-in conditioner, was up in a bun, but strands had fallen loose in the front, sticking to his cheek and curling in the humidity. 

Hisoka’s own body wash covered his shoulders in a blanket of strawberry-scented suds. 

“Relax,” Hisoka said, the smile dropping from his face now, “I don’t care.” 

“I do,” Illumi hissed. 

“Seriously,” Hisoka said, resting his weight against the doorway, “I won't say anything.” 

“There isn’t anything to say,” Illumi said, water still falling on him steadily. “It’s not what it looks like.” 

“What does it look like?” Hisoka asked, fake innocence dripping from his voice. He knew, intrinsically, that he was being mean, but he couldn’t really help it. 

Illumi’s cheeks turned red. 

“You’re an asshole.” 

“That’s super creative, Illumi, really, I’m impressed.” 

“Fucking get out,” he seethed. 

“I don’t even know why you’re bothering with covering yourself up. You’re so stupid, Illumi. You think I didn’t notice that every other week you had fucking scratches all over your body? And I knew it wasn’t from sex ‘cause you’re a fucking virgin, probably. You think I haven’t seen all the other shit on your body during lacrosse season?” 

Hisoka felt himself smile again, wider, with teeth. He felt a little sick. 

“I just told you, Illumi, I. Don’t. Care.” 

Illumi shut the shower off and wrenched the door open. He didn’t bother with a towel. Water dripped everywhere. Soap trailed down his chest. Illumi wasn’t smiling, but Hisoka could imagine he was, with the way his eyes looked: alight with the satisfaction of being terrible to someone who deserves it. 

“I know you noticed, Hisoka, I know because you’re a fucking pervert who is _obsessed_ with me. At least Chrollo had the courage to actually admit it. Am I that intimidating, or are you that much of a pussy? I saw you staring at me in the locker rooms. I saw you staring at me _all the time_ , actually. And you still won’t actually admit you like me! What, you don’t want people to think you’re a faggot? Too late for that, Hisoka.” Illumi laughed humorlessly and gestured to Hisoka’s hair. His next breath was hissed out like an overly hot tea kettle. 

“You harass me constantly and then you say I’m self-obsessed. You pretend to be nice and you pretend to actually like me, but you don’t! All you have is lacrosse, and guess what? I have that, too, and everything else. Leave me the fuck alone.” 

Hisoka had never actually seen Illumi angry before. Without a word, he leaned past Illumi, careful not to touch, and turned the shower back on. 

“Go wash the soap off, then we can get breakfast.” 

“Did you hear me?” Illumi demanded shrilly. 

“Had that one building up for a while now, huh?” Hisoka asked. 

“And you’re condescending. You think you’re better than me and--” 

“You’re getting water on my floors, go shower.” 

“Tell me what to do again and I’ll--” 

“You’ll what?” Hisoka asked, smiling cruelly. “You’ll buy me with all that money of yours?” 

Illumi’s head reared back, nose wrinkling in disgust. 

“You _know_ that wasn’t what I was going to say.” 

“Go fucking shower, Illumi. I’m hungry and now, thanks to all of this--” He gestured to Illumi’s still-wet, still-soapy naked body. “I’m hard.”

“You’re disgusting,” Illumi said, stepping back into the shower. 

“And hurry up, I still haven’t showered and I’m freezing!” Hisoka called, settling on his desk with a sigh. 

Illumi had been surprisingly cruel, and accurate, too. Except for that part about being afraid of people knowing he was gay. The hair was, indeed, a dead-giveaway. And if not his hair, then probably his personality and his clothes and everything else. 

The thing Illumi said about Chrollo had left bile in his throat, but his outburst had at least confirmed one thing. 

Illumi was well-aware of Hisoka’s crush and still chose to hang out with him. 

He wasn’t all that bothered about Illumi’s animosity. He, after all, was the one who had started it. 

He should probably apologize about that. 

When Illumi finally did emerge from the bathroom, it was a little sad. He slunk through the door like a rescue cat, wary eyes pinning Hisoka in place. 

“Coach emailed us,” Hisoka said. 

“What about?” 

“Didn’t say. We’re meeting on Monday after school.” 

“Are we in trouble?” 

“I just said it didn’t say, Illumi,” Hisoka said, exasperated. Illumi fingered the hem of his sweatshirt. 

He had brought a change of clothes, which Hisoka found inexplicably endearing. 

“And,” Hisoka added, grimacing at how pathetic he sounded. “I’m sorry, for what I said, and for just being a general dick.” Illumi regarded him dubiously. 

“Okay.” 

“Well,” Hisoka prompted, “aren’t you going to apologize?” Illumi’s nose wrinkled again. 

“What for?” 

“You called me a faggot! And a pussy! And poor! None of that was very PC, you know.” 

“Fine, I’m sorry.” 

“That didn’t sound very sincere,” Hisoka said. Illumi sighed. 

“I really am sorry, Hisoka. If this makes you feel better, which it will, because you’re sick, you hurt my feelings so I wanted to hurt you, too. So… sorry.” 

“Apology head?” Hisoka asked, spreading his thighs in invitation. 

“Go shower,” Illumi said coldly. “I’m hungry.” 

Hisoka’s shower was far less eventful than Illumi’s. He scrubbed himself down, washed his hair, and then reemerged, feeling and looking much better. 

“Ready?” He asked Illumi. 

“Can I borrow some socks?” Illumi asked. 

“Top drawer in my closet.” 

Illumi picked out the thickest, warmest socks Hisoka owned, socks which he never really wore himself. 

“These are nice,” Illumi remarked, pulling them onto his feet. Hisoka didn’t think he had a thing for feet, but then, he hadn’t really paid much attention to Illumi’s until now. 

They were lovely.

“Ready?” Hisoka asked again. Illumi stood, shoving his feet into his shoes promptly. 

“Yes.” He moved for the door, but he was stopped abruptly by Hisoka. 

“Wait.” Hisoka kneeled in front of Illumi, which sent both of Illumi’s eyebrows shooting upwards. 

“You’re really proving my point about--” Hisoka lifted the hem of his sweatshirt up to his chest, once again revealing the mottled bruises along his torso. 

“Jesus!” Illumi hissed, attempting to move away. 

“I have Tiger Balm,” Hisoka said, eyes narrowed at the bruises in scrutiny. 

“It’s like icy hot,” he explained, seeing Illumi’s confusion, “but much better.” 

“Is this your way of apologizing?” Illumi asked dryly. 

“Does it bother you?” Hisoka replied, heaving himself up to his feet with a grunt of exertion. He snatched the pot of Tiger Balm off his desk and cracked the lid. 

“Do you want me to put it on, or can you do it?” 

“You can.” 

“Sit on the bed then, and take off your sweatshirt.” Illumi gave him a look at that, which Hisoka took and rolled his eyes at. 

“You can do it yourself if you want. Either way, you’ll have to take it off.” 

Illumi tugged his sweatshirt off and folded it neatly on Hisoka’s bed. Then, he jumped up onto the bed, legs swinging like a child’s. 

Without the steam and soap and his arms to cover it, the bruises were almost shockingly bad. Hisoka felt a surge of guilt, which was unusual for him. Illumi watched blankly as Hisoka grazed his fingers over the bruise on his stomach, green at the edges, deeply purple in the center. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

“I was a dick about it.” 

“And then I was a dick back. Just put that gross stuff on me so I can go eat a waffle.” 

Hisoka did just that, dipping his fingers into the pot and spreading it gently over the bruised skin. 

“It would be easier if you laid down,” Hisoka said, brows furrowed in concentration. 

Illumi laid down. He was looking skinnier, though Hisoka hoped that was just because they hadn’t eaten yet. 

It was so strange how he could go from hating Illumi with a passion that was usually inaccessible to him, to fawning over the tip of his nose and the muscle in his stomach. Illumi breathed out shakily as Hisoka rubbed in the balm. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“No, just feels weird.” The smell of Tiger Balm--menthol and cinnamon, hot and cold and sweet and bitter--filled the air. 

Hisoka turned his attention to Illumi’s arm, where the fingerprints were. These were fresher and far tamer than what was on his stomach, but they seemed more painful with the way Illumi glared at him as he coated the marks in the medicine. 

“There,” Hisoka said. Illumi sighed, relaxing as the balm began to really kick in. Without thinking, Hisoka fully got on the bed, crawling properly over Illumi until they were nose to nose. 

Illumi’s features were so strange. They were beautiful, almost doll-like, but also slightly terrifying. 

He had a nice mouth, sort of girlish. 

He reminded Hisoka of the meaner older sister in a coming-of-age movie, who snapped at her goofy little brother for wearing her bras on his head and unplugging her straightening iron. 

“Waffles,” Illumi said suddenly. His breath smelled of Hisoka’s toothpaste--bubblegum flavor. 

“Waffles,” Hisoka said back. 

Illumi stood first, gingerly lowering his sweatshirt over the Tiger Balm, waiting patiently for Hisoka to find socks and shoes. The rain was still going, but the dining hall was two minutes away at most. A sturdy sweatshirt would do fine. 

* * *

The dining hall was empty when they came to it. There was no line for the waffles, so Illumi went and got a big plate of them, which he slid between himself and Hisoka, a silent invitation to share. 

Hisoka made some vaguely disgusting drink by mixing many different fruit juices together, and grabbed two handfuls of hard-boiled eggs, which he insisted he could peel in one go. 

Even Illumi was impressed by it, watching the shell of one egg fall away like a poorly-fitted hat.

And as they ate breakfast, every time Illumi met Hisoka’s gaze, he began to feel, not for the first time today, like he was running in the rain, trying in vain to stay dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank u so much for reading. Please leave a comment if you feel so inclined! they keep me going!


	5. The Blizzard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet with their coach and a blizzard strikes the school.

“You’re probably anxious to know why I wanted to speak to you,” their coach said. His expression was grave. Hisoka had already gone through the scenarios in his head. If he got kicked out, he would need to get a job immediately. He could easily pass the GED test, but he should probably prepare for it anyway, just to be certain. Once he had a high school diploma, he would be able to get a full time job, and then maybe he could start taking night classes at the local community college, maybe. But then there was the problem of-- 

“So, as you two both know, the team voted for captains this fall--” 

“You said we were allowed to vote for ourselves,” Illumi said abruptly, eyes gleaming with defensiveness. Coach raised a single, silver eyebrow. 

“Well, yes, I did, but that’s not why I’m speaking to you right now.” 

“Oh,” Illumi said, leaning back into his chair with a sigh, hackles lowering. 

“You two were voted in as captains by majority.” Hisoka felt a breath he didn’t know he had been holding whoosh out from between his teeth. 

“Fuck,” he sighed, hazy with relief. 

“Language,” their coach said mildly. “Anyway, I wanted to speak to you two before it was announced. You know, I’m not an idiot.” Illumi’s eyes went narrow, a sign that he was thinking very hard. 

“What do you--” 

“I’m concerned about how your… dynamic, for lack of a better word, is going to affect the team.” 

“Hold on,” Illumi said, bristling, “we aren’t--” He was cut off with a yelp, nursing his suddenly sore knee cap. Hisoka had squeezed until his fingernails broke the skin. 

Their coach glanced between them, brows furrowed. 

“It’s obvious you two aren’t the best of friends. You don’t get along. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Hisoka tried not to laugh at the confusion on Illumi’s face. 

“We--” 

“Illumi, please stop interrupting me. I wanted to make sure you two were prepared to work together. I’ll be honest, the prospect of your joint captainship makes me nervous. Firstly, we usually have three captains, as you know, and secondly, neither of you, really, have shown a propensity for leadership. Illumi, your control of the field during a game speaks for itself, but I think you and I both know that doesn’t translate off the turf very well.” Hisoka snorted into his hand. 

“And  _ Hisoka _ ,” their coach said with a weary sigh. “Let’s not get into that right now.” He picked up a pen off his desk and clicked it, staring his two players down with a mixture of pride and exasperation. 

“It was clear that the team voted with one thing in mind--winning the championship this year. So long as you two are willing to be our captains, then I expect we have every chance of doing that.” 

“Illumi and I are actually best friends,” Hisoka said, beaming. 

“No,” Illumi said, and then he hesitated, realizing, perhaps, that that was starting to become true. 

“We are friends,” he decided. Their coach seemed pleased with that verdict. He glanced at Hisoka, looking for confirmation. Hisoka leaned back in his chair and then put a hand on top of Illumi’s head, fingers digging into silky tresses of black hair. Illumi took the hand like a disgruntled cat, shoulders hunching in irritation, eyes going narrow and cold. Still, he didn’t make any move to knock Hisoka’s hand away. 

“The freshmen look up to you two,” their coach said. “Try to be decent role models for them.” 

“We will,” Hisoka said, ruffling Illumi’s hair as he pulled his hand away. Their coach sighed happily, folding his hands over his stomach like he had just eaten a satisfying meal. 

“Well, this was a good talk. Off you go. See you come springtime.” 

* * *

When the next all-school meeting rolled around, Hisoka found Illumi in the very same spot: tucked in the back row of the auditorium, a sleek white sneaker propped up on the back of the seat in front of him. 

“Hello, co-captain,” Hisoka said, settling beside Illumi with a sigh. Illumi glanced sideways at him but he didn’t say anything more. 

“Did you hear about the blizzard that’s coming next week?” Hisoka pressed.

“Apparently the roads won’t be drivable,” Illumi said smugly. “Day students won’t have to go to school.” 

“Lucky,” Hisoka muttered. 

“It’s supposed to last three days or something, too.” 

“Good morning!” The Dean of Students shouted from the podium. Thirteen years in one job and she still didn’t understand that there was a microphone attached to the podium; it wasn’t necessary to shout. 

“We have updates on the blizzard that will be visiting us next week! Now, I understand Day Students, in particular, might be apprehensive, what with road safety and all. Belmont wants to be sure every student is able to participate in these classes that your parents pay so much money for!” She laughed awkwardly. 

“With that in mind, we will be requiring Day Students to stay  _ on campus during the blizzard _ \--” Murmurs filled the auditorium. Illumi sunk into his chair with a groan of despair. 

“Hold on, children. Day Students may choose  _ who  _ to stay with, and if they can’t find a suitable temporary roommate, we will assign them one. Please contact the House Heads of whatever dorm you want to stay in, to ensure that capacity limits are heeded. Thank you!” 

Hisoka let out a delighted laugh. 

“Did you hear that?” 

“Yes.” 

“You have to stay on--” 

“I heard it, Hisoka.” 

“That sucks for you!” He crowed. 

School meeting dwindled to an end, and as soon as it did, Illumi slipped out of the auditorium, cutting through the lingering crowds like an ice-breaking barge. He didn’t seem keen on waiting for Hisoka, but when Hisoka finally managed to track down his backpack and shimmy out through the back door, Illumi was there, waiting, a little bit like a dog.

“Good boy,” Hisoka said, patting his silky head. Illumi batted his hand away irritably. 

“I’m going to email the House Head in your dorm. I’ll cc you on the email, just so you have it.” 

“Hm?” 

“For the blizzard, Hisoka.” 

“The blizzard,” Hisoka echoed, looking lost. 

“I’m staying with you, aren’t I?” Illumi sounded slightly exasperated, hair tossing to the side. 

“Oh, you are?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“I didn’t realize  _ you  _ wanted to.” 

“I don’t want to. I have to.” 

“Okay, email my House Head, then,” Hisoka said with a shrug. Illumi’s lip lifted in an expression of disdain. Hisoka met it with a smile. 

“Fine.” 

“Cool.” 

“I’m going to the library,” Illumi muttered, shouldering his bag and accidentally catching a bit of his hair in the process. 

Hisoka pulled the hair out from under the strap, fingers lingering in the black strands for a moment too long. 

“What are you doing?” Illumi asked, his hair still in Hisoka’s hand. 

Unsure of what else to do, Hisoka yanked it. 

Illumi’s passive wide eyes went narrow in shock. 

“You’re so irritating,” he huffed, wrenching his head away from him. 

“I’ll come with you to the library.” 

“I don't want you to.” 

“The library is a public space. You can’t not let me go to the library.” 

“Well, just don’t sit next to me and distract me the whole time.” 

“I won’t.” 

They found a private nook on the fourth floor, tucked between two book stacks. Illumi settled on one big, comfy chair, and Hisoka took the other. 

In the few weeks since Halloween, and since their fight, things had been surprisingly pleasant. Hisoka could count on one hand how many times Illumi seemed truly annoyed with him, and the same could be said for the other way around. They continued to play lacrosse together at least three times a week, which meant that at least three times a week, Hisoka watched Illumi shower. 

It wasn’t like he was a walking child abuse case. Most of the time, he seemed more or less physically fine. Some days, he showed up to class or to their practices with a deeply-rooted exhaustion in his eyes, something that couldn’t be helped with sleep or coffee. But, Hisoka wasn’t about to press him about that. 

He didn’t exactly trust himself not to be a total dick about it. 

“Hey, Hisoka.” The voice was familiar. Hisoka cracked open an eye. To his right, Illumi was sitting cross-legged in that chair, a laptop on his lap, typing busiedly. 

In front of him, a kid he vaguely recognized from sophomore year was standing anxiously. 

“Hello.” 

“You write essays, don’t you?” 

“Sure.” 

“I have a 2000 word essay due soon, and I really need--” 

“That’ll be a flat flee of a hundred dollars.” 

“That’s fine,” the kid said impatiently. 

“Just text me the prompt and--” 

“It’s due in two days.” 

“ _ Two days _ ?” Hisoka demanded. “Fuck no.” 

“You did an essay the night before for Kate Mallory in the grade below!” 

“Yeah, that was a three-page essay about what she did last summer. 2000 words is eight pages in MLA format. I also need to read previous essays of yours, so I can mimic your voice, and I don’t even know what the essay needs to be about. I’m also a student here, if you didn’t notice. I have other shit to do. You should have come to me two days ago and maybe I would have been able to help you.” 

“Dude, I will pay double for you to write this essay. You don’t need to write it in  _ my voice,  _ just fucking write--” 

“Why don’t you write your own essay?” Both Hisoka and the kid turned. 

Illumi blinked back at them owlishly. 

“What?” The kid asked stupidly. 

“I said write your own essay. Are you stupid?” 

“ _ No, _ ” he spluttered. 

“What he does,” Illumi began, jerking a thumb at Hisoka, “is an academic integrity violation. He could get expelled for writing people’s essays for them. If he turns in a paper that’s leagues better than what you usually write, or if it sounds too similar to his own style, he’s going to get caught and so are you. Stop being fucking lazy and write your own paper. And this is a library, so keep it down.” Illumi went back to typing. 

“Whatever,” the kid muttered, turning on his heel to leave. Hisoka watched him go contemplatively, expression surprisingly subdued. 

“That was nice of you,” he said, finally. 

“I hate kids like that,” Illumi said, biting at his thumbnail. He reached into his bag, pulled out a book, and then flipped to a dog-eared page, holding it open with one palm so he could copy a quote with the other. 

“I probably could have written it,” Hisoka said, tapping his chin. “He probably would have actually paid double.” 

“Do you need the money?” Illumi asked. He still wasn’t fully looking at Hisoka, eyes instead scanning the document he was working on. Hisoka was secretly grateful. He had never really been stood up for, and it was slightly embarrassing, especially coming from Illumi, who gave loyalty so reluctantly. 

“I could always use the money,” Hisoka said with a shrug. Illumi reached into his backpack again and produced a wallet. 

“No,” Hisoka said, laughing. “Illumi, no.” 

“Why.” 

“Because, I don’t want to be given money.” 

“You ask for things from me all the time.” 

“Because it annoys you!” It was annoying, actually. After every lacrosse practice, Hisoka would flop onto the turf and whine until Illumi helped him stretch. Illumi was pretty sure he hated it, but then, recently, it hadn’t been as much of a chore. 

Probably because he could stretch Hisoka until he squealed. 

“Keep your money,” Hisoka said. 

“Okay,” Illumi said obediently, putting his wallet away. 

“You know, now that we’re captains, we should probably start hosting team practices.” 

“After the blizzard,” Illumi said, back to typing. 

“Can we practice before, though, just the two of us?” 

“Sure,” Illumi said. 

* * *

The blizzard came half a day early. Snow blanketed every surface it could, muffling sound, turning the campus into something out of a fairytale. 

Hisoka received a knock on his door after a full day of classes. 

“Come in,” he called, lifting his head up wearily from his bed. 

He was almost certain that the person who appeared in his doorway was Illumi, but he couldn’t be sure. After all, the only bit of “person” he could see were two big, black eyes. The rest of him was bundled in probably the most ridiculous and ostentatious winter gear Hisoka had ever seen. 

His coat was Moncler and dark green and perfectly fitted. He had on leather gloves in a matching color, also Moncler, and a shearling black snow-hat with flaps for the ears. 

A black scarf hid the parts of his face that the hat had left out. 

“You look warm,” Hisoka said amusedly. Illumi had blessedly left his shoes outside the room, padding in with just a pair of thick woolen socks. 

“It’s cold out there,” he said with a sigh, removing the hat and the gloves and the coat with the primness of a royal.

“Did you bring a bag?” Hisoka asked. Illumi held up a finger for patience and then returned with a big black duffel. 

“Yes,” he said, setting it down with a self-satisfied sound. 

Hisoka had a big room. It was a corner room, so there was enough space for a desk and a chair and a couch and a bed, plus a swathe of open floor in the middle. 

Illumi had swallowed up that swathe like a black hole, standing amidst his shorn winter gear. 

“I’m going to order food for us,” he announced, setting his coat gingerly on an empty hook by the door. 

“Food?” Hisoka asked, sitting up in bed. 

“Unless you wanted to trek to the dining hall in this weather?” The sweater Illumi was wearing under his coat was a turtleneck--the Zoldyck children wore a lot of turtlenecks, Hisoka noticed--and fitted. His pants were a dark gray and had the telltale crease down the middle, a traveler’s crease. 

“No, let’s stay inside,” Hisoka agreed. Illumi nodded, unlocking his phone, the blue light illuminating the high points of his cheeks. 

“Do you have a lot of work?” Illumi asked absently. 

“Sort of. I have plenty of time to do it. My first-period class got canceled tomorrow.” 

“Lucky,” Illumi said with a sigh, dropping onto the couch heavily. 

“My teacher said he was sick but I just think he doesn’t want to go outside tomorrow. Works for me, though.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Hey, Illumi,” Hisoka said suddenly, his voice just a bit too loud. 

“Yes?” 

“I heard that you gave Chrollo a letter back.” He was trying to keep his voice light and casual, but the instant it came out, he realized he had done neither. Across the room, Illumi lifted his head with an almost predatory slowness. 

“Where’d you hear that?” 

“Dunno.” 

“You do.” 

“Why does it matter?” Hisoka asked, exasperated. He was backstabbing sometimes, but he wasn’t about to sell Machi out. 

“It’s not your business,” Illumi muttered, directing his attention back to his phone. “But since you’re so curious, Hisoka, yeah, I did.” 

“That’s super cute.” 

“It wasn’t cute. I didn’t know how else to turn him down.” 

“Are you gay?” Illumi’s head lifted again. His eyes were narrow, but it wasn’t hostile. 

“That’s a personal question.” 

“Are you a virgin?” 

“I could just find a different room to stay in, you know.” Hisoka laughed and shook his head. 

“Sorry, I’ll stop.” Illumi seemed surprised by his sudden respect for personal boundaries. His lips lifted in a grateful smile. 

“Good,” he said. 

* * *

“Do you even masturbate?” Hisoka asked hours later, holding a clump of lo mein with his chopsticks. 

Illumi crushed the corner of a fortune cookie between his teeth. 

“Because you kind of seem like you don’t. And I feel like it would be something you’d benefit from.” Hisoka blew on the steaming lo mein. 

“We’re stuck in this room for three days. I could teach you, you know,” he went on. 

“Will you stop?” 

“Not answering my questions is more telling than anything else.” 

“Stop asking me questions, then,” Illumi spat. He had already eaten four of the six fortune cookies they had been given, laying out the paper fortunes neatly by his foot. Hisoka took the last two from the bag, anticipating Illumi would go for more if he saw them. 

“What, you want me to go first? As captains, we should know those things about each other.” 

“I don’t care about your sex life.” 

“I’m a virgin.” 

“Great.” 

“I do masturbate, actually.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Now, it’s your turn.” 

Illumi stabbed a piece of orange chicken with a single chopstick and ate it slowly. Hisoka was staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and delight. Illumi felt like the feathers at the end of a cat toy. 

“What kind of movies do you like?” Hisoka asked, growing bored of Illumi’s discomfort, and of his silence.

“I like nature documentaries,” Illumi said. That was an easy one. 

“Really?” Hisoka asked, nose wrinkling. 

“I hate movies with plots.” 

“That’s all movies.” 

“Yeah, that’s why I like nature documentaries.” 

“Do you have pets?” Hisoka asked, cracking open a fortune cookie gently. He fished the fortune out first, pulling the slip of paper taut in order to uncurl it. 

“I have a dog,” Illumi said. 

“I didn’t take you for a dog person.” 

“He’s a guard dog. He protects the estate.” 

“ _ Fear and desire--two sides of the same coin _ ,” Hisoka read loudly from the fortune. His gaze flitted upwards. 

“Are you afraid of me?” He purred. 

“No,” Illumi said flatly. Hisoka sighed and tossed the fortune with the empty food cartons. 

“You said you have a guard dog?” 

“Yes,” Illumi said, snatching the fortune and lining it up neatly with the other ones. 

“What’s his name?”

“Mike.” 

“Mike? That’s a stupid name.” 

“It’s not stupid,” Illumi snarled. 

“Are you a virgin?” Hisoka asked again, gleeful. 

“You’re actually crazy,” Illumi said, standing up and taking their empty cartons to the trash. 

“I feel like you are a virgin.” 

“You’re projecting,” Illumi said shortly. He tipped a mug on Hisoka’s bedside towards him, peering at it’s contents. 

“It was just water,” Hisoka said, understanding his wordless question. Illumi took it with him to the bathroom and filled it up. Hisoka wasn’t really sure why, but seeing Illumi drink out of his mug was possibly the most erotic thing he had ever seen. It was an intimacy he had never experienced before, something he wanted more of. 

“So you’ve had sex, then?” 

“With a girl,” Illumi confirmed. He returned to his spot on the floor, cupping the mug between his hands almost reverently. 

“Really?” Hisoka demanded, excitable now. Illumi leaned back on his palms and smiled, more to himself. 

“Is that surprising?” 

“I bet you lasted like two minutes. I bet you cried.” 

“I didn’t cry. It was a year ago. She was two years older than me, and it lasted longer than two minutes. And I don’t believe that you’re a virgin.” 

“Scout’s honor,” Hisoka said. “I’ve given head, and received head, and done hand stuff, obviously.” Illumi had no idea what “hand stuff” meant, but he nodded along anyway. “But nothing more than that.” 

“Waiting for the right person?” Illumi asked with a scoff. Hisoka grinned sort of evilly. 

“Why, are you volunteering?” 

“Gross.” 

“I’d let you pop my cherry.”   
“That’s what you say for girls,” Illumi said with a wrinkled nose. 

“I’d let you steal my flower,” Hisoka amended. 

“I don’t want your flower.” 

“Was the sex good?” Hisoka asked. Illumi’s hand, which had been combing through his hair, paused. 

“I was kind of drunk.” 

“Was it good, though?” 

“I think so.” 

“You really didn’t cry?” 

“Why do you keep asking that? No.” Illumi’s voice was a growl. 

“It was at a party. She was the older sister of a kid on my club lacrosse team. She was hot and nice. It was fine.” 

“That’s not a very interesting story,” Hisoka said with a pout.   
“It’s not a story. I’m just answering your question. Yes, I’ve had sex, no, I didn’t cry. It was good, it was fine.” 

“Oookay.” 

“God, this blizzard couldn’t end fast enough.” 

“It hasn’t even been a day!” 

“I’m taking a shower. Don’t come in.” 

\--

Hisoka did come in, to Illumi’s extreme displeasure. But it was just to brush his teeth. His eyes only lingered on Illumi’s naked body once, and it was more clinical than anything. 

He sat on the closed toilet seat and kept the toothbrush in his mouth, scrolling through his phone with little enthusiasm. 

“What are you doing for Ski Weekend?” Hisoka asked with the toothbrush still in his mouth. 

“I don’t--” 

“Oh, God, are you one of those people who actually skis?” 

“I snowboard.” 

“Oh, that’s cool.” 

“And I don’t know yet. Probably nothing.” 

“You should come to the city. I’m going with Chrollo and Machi and Feitan and them.” 

“I’m not really friends with them,” Illumi said, working conditioner through the ends of his hair. He had brought his own shower stuff, all of which looked to be extremely expensive. 

“It doesn’t matter. Leorio and ‘Pika are going and those two don’t like them at all.” 

“I don’t really do that stuff.” 

“You don’t drink alcohol?” 

“I don’t hang out with people,” Illumi corrected. 

“You hang out with me,” Hisoka pointed out, which earned him a frown from Illumi. 

“I guess I do.” 

“Just come for one night. It’ll be fun. I won’t leave you alone or anything. We can just hang out and then you can leave whenever you want to.” 

“Maybe. I’ll ask my parents.” Hisoka rinsed his mouth after that, setting his toothbrush down next to Illumi’s. For a second, he stared at the two. 

Surprisingly, Illumi used a cheap disposable toothbrush as well. His was blue. Slowly, Hisoka pressed the heads of their toothbrushes together, until the bristles interlocked, smushing them together until every part of the heads were touching. He twisted them, like he was making two barbie dolls kiss.

“What are you doing?” Illumi asked from the shower. 

“Nothing,” Hisoka lied, rearranging the toothbrushes next to each other again. 

He left the bathroom, shutting the light off out of habit. 

“Hisoka!” Illumi shouted. 

“Oops,” Hisoka called back, sticking his hand back into the bathroom and flicking the light on. 

Illumi sighed loudly from inside the shower. 

\--

Hisoka finished his work for the next day first, shutting his laptop with a sigh and stretching smugly. 

“Still working?” He asked Illumi. 

“You can sleep,” Illumi said, not registering the teasing, “just show me where I’m sleeping.” Hisoka quirked an eyebrow and then gestured, a little extravagantly, to the bed. 

“What about you?” 

Hisoka gestured to the bed again. 

“You can’t be serious,” Illumi said. 

“I mean, the couch is way too small to sleep on.” 

“We aren’t sharing a bed.” 

“Well, then, you should have brought--like--a sleeping bag or something.” 

“Do I look,” Illumi began very tightly, “like the kind of person who owns a  _ sleeping bag _ ?” Hisoka sort of liked this look on Illumi, all puffed up like a pissed-off cat, slender fingers digging into his own thighs. 

“Elitism aside, this is a twin bed. Twin means  _ two _ . It’s meant for two people.” 

“That’s not true!” Illumi said, hysterically. 

“Which side do you prefer? I’m partial to the window, but it’s up to you. You’re the guest.” 

“I want the window. Don’t touch me.” Hisoka shrugged and collapsed into bed, folding his arms behind his head. 

When Illumi finished his work as well, he walked up to the bed and stared at it skeptically. 

“It’s so small.” 

“Get over it,” Hisoka said sleepily. Illumi sighed, loud, again, and crawled gingerly over Hisoka to take the window side. Although Hisoka wasn’t touching him, he could feel the heat emanating from his shoulder. 

“Goodnight, Illumi,” Hisoka sang. 

“Night.”

* * *

Illumi woke to an incredible heat pressed against one side and a terrible cold coming from the other. As his sight unblurred and as consciousness returned to him, he realized that the coldness was from the window, and the heat was from Hisoka, who was lying on his back, one arm draped over his own chest, the other extended, with the latter being the one that was touching Illumi. 

Hisoka had been partly right about the bed. 

It wasn’t as small as Illumi had expected. They had obviously been touching in their sleep but it hadn’t been enough to wake either of them. 

Illumi sat upwards, moving gingerly to avoid waking Hisoka. His alarm was going off faintly from across the room, but it didn’t seem loud enough to bother Hisoka, so he let it ring. 

The window, at first glance, was just a panel of white. The blizzard had come in the night like a thief, leaving, instead of taking, and leaving, specifically, mounds and mounds of snow. 

Illumi had to admit it was beautiful, the simplicity of it, the silence of it. 

To his right, Hisoka stirred, his head turning towards Illumi, sighing from his mouth very gently. 

Illumi had to admit that he was beautiful, too, in a purely observational sense. Unstyled, his hair was feathery and soft-looking, even despite the garish dye, and it fell carefully over his forehead, tickling his brows. His mouth was parted ever so slightly, lips soft and pink. They were naturally pink, too, which surprised Illumi. He had always assumed Hisoka put on the same pinkish lip balm that he saw girls use. 

In actuality, Hisoka was a pretty pink person: pink at the ears and elbows, pink in the lips, pink at the knees. 

“Illumi,” he croaked, suddenly. It startled Illumi. 

“Yes?” He asked, voice soft, almost hopeful. 

“Can you turn your fucking alarm off?” His voice was rasped and not hostile in the slightest. A single golden eye cracked open and regarded Illumi blearily. 

“Oh, sorry.”

Illumi crawled over him awkwardly and then stumbled for his alarm. 

It was half-past six. 

Behind him, on the bed, Hisoka rolled over onto the spot Illumi had just left, seeking his warmth. 

“Time izzit?” 

“Six-thirty,” Illumi whispered. Hisoka groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

“So  _ early _ .”

“I’ll be quiet,” Illumi promised. He tip-toed to the bathroom and shut the door. It was impossible to brush your teeth quietly but he certainly tried. After, he let his hair loose from it’s bun and then re-tied it so that it was lower. 

The tiny window in the bathroom let in a rectangle of unnaturally white light, from the snow. It reflected on the floor and when Illumi stuck his foot through it, he was surprised by the warmth. 

When he finished with the bathroom, Hisoka was once again asleep, curled up now, facing the room, but in Illumi’s spot. 

He had pillowed his head on his own arm, squishing his cheek upward, lifting his pouting lips into a one-sided smile. Illumi stared, inappropriately, for a minute, shook his head to clear it, and then got ready. 

He had packed just enough clothes for the three days he would presumably be stuck here. From his bag, he pulled out a pair of straight-legged black jeans and a black sweater that he had torn a hole in last year. 

Kikyo had sent it out to get repaired, scolding him for being “ungrateful” and smacking him when he had said, “it was just a fucking sweater”. 

He had been really lucky Silva hadn’t been there. 

He pulled on socks and then fetched his hat, his gloves, and his coat. Hisoka slumbered on, stirring more now that stronger light was coming in from the windows. 

By seven, Illumi was ready for class. He stretched for a few seconds, and then he grabbed his schoolbag from the couch. 

“Hisoka,” Illumi whispered.

“Hm?” Hisoka’s eyes didn’t open. 

“Do you want me to get you coffee?” 

“Mhm.” 

“What do you like?” 

“Latte,” Hisoka grunted, clearly incapable of full sentences yet.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” 

Illumi didn’t really mind the snow, or mornings, so he found that as he walked down the freshly-plowed path outside, he was in a good mood. 

Maybe it had something to do with staying with Hisoka. He was irritating, but Illumi would take irritating over whatever he experienced at his own home any day. 

There were some parts of campus that hadn’t been plowed yet, and one of those parts was the quickest way to the cafe that was next to the humanities building. They sold coffee and other drinks, as well as pastries and snacks, to students during the school year. Illumi had disliked the coffee there immensely until he persuaded his father to donate an italian espresso machine. 

He only drank cappuccinos. 

Because of the snowed-in pathway, he had to sort of hop like a snow rabbit through the powder, cringing as melted snow seeped into his pants. But, the snow was a blessing in disguise because the cafe itself was utterly empty when he reached it, save for two bored-looking baristas who brightened when they saw Illumi. 

He was such a regular customer that they knew his order by heart and often struck up a conversation. 

“Hey, Illumi.” 

“Hello.” The first woman, Max, started on his cappuccino. 

“Could I also get a latte, please?” 

“What kind?” Max asked, gesturing to the list of flavors on their board. Illumi squinted. 

There were a lot of flavors to choose from, almost all of them looking a little sickening. Except, maybe, peppermint. That one looked pretty good. 

“I’m not sure. It’s not for me,” Illumi said lamely. “What’s popular?” 

“Hmm, well, the vanilla latte is probably ordered the most, and peppermint, now that it’s December.” 

“Okay, well then make the latte a vanilla one and then could you add the peppermint to mine?” 

“Sure, dear.” 

Illumi inserted his credit card and knocked the snow off his boot while he waited. 

When the drinks were finished, Max put them in travel cups with lids and sleeves and set them in front of Illumi. 

“Stay warm out there, and watch out for black ice!” 

“Thank you,” Illumi said. He took both drinks and made his way back to Hisoka’s room, taking his time to avoid the slippery parts of the path. 

A cursory look at his watch had told him it was somewhere around seven-twenty, so forty minutes until class started. Overhead, the sun was shining brilliantly, reflecting on the snow and turning the world a too-bright white. It was pleasant, though, like everything had been scrubbed clean. 

When Illumi finally made it back to Hisoka’s room, Hisoka was still asleep, eyes screwed shut against the sunshine. 

“I didn’t know what to get you, so it’s vanilla,” Illumi said, setting the drink on his bedside. 

“Oh, well done,” Hisoka mumbled, finally sitting upright, hair askew, eyes half-opened. 

“You’re an early riser,” he added, a little sourly. 

“Sorry,” Illumi said. 

“It’s fine. I guess it’s good to be up early.” 

“I like your hair like that,” Illumi blurted out. Hisoka’s eyes flitted upwards, as if trying to look at his own hair. 

“Messy?” 

“Unstyled.” 

“Ah, I guess. I usually leave it like this in the winter anyway, so that I can wear hats. My ears get cold really easily. I have bad circulation.” 

“How do you know you have bad circulation?” Illumi asked. Hisoka looked at him strangely and then rolled out of bed, standing with surprising energy and crossing the room to where Illumi was sitting. 

Wordlessly, he pulled off one of Illumi’s gloves and then pressed his fingers flat between his own two palms. 

“You don’t,” he said, eyes meeting Illumi’s. 

“What?” Illumi asked dumbly. 

“You don’t have bad circulation. Your fingers are warm.” 

“Oh. Good.” Hisoka released his hand and placed his glove on his lap, smiling crookedly. 

“You good?” He asked. Illumi scowled. 

“Fine.” 

“What’re you drinking?” 

“A cappuccino, but I added peppermint syrup to it. It’s good.” 

“Lemme try,” and before Illumi could say no, or yes, Hisoka was snatching the cup from his hands and sipping it.

“Oh, it is good. You can try mine, if you want.” 

“No, it’s okay. I should head to class. It’ll take a long time to get there, with the snow and everything,” Illumi said, quickly. Maybe it was because his coat was still on, and because he was drinking something hot, but he was starting to feel very warm, almost like the beginning of a fever. 

“I’ll be here,” Hisoka said with a feline stretch. Illumi grabbed his bag and slipped out the room, ears burning, a testament to his Hisoka-approved circulation. 

As soon as Illumi got out of class, he headed to the dining hall to grab food. The cappuccino had been delightful, but not satisfying in the slightest. 

The dining hall, unlike the cafe, was packed. He wavered slightly in the entrance, eyes scanning the area for an empty table. Machi, Chrollo, Pakunoda, and Shizuku were all sitting at a table together, a collection of mugs spread out between the four of them, but Illumi was reluctant. 

The only times he had seen Chrollo had been during English class. He wasn’t eager to sit at a table with him and pretend he hadn’t written him a love letter at Hisoka’s urging. 

But then, there wasn’t really anywhere else for him to go. With a little jerk of his head, he made his way to the table, sitting down as far from Chrollo as possible. Pakunoda and Machi glanced at each other. Shizuku tried in vain to fish the tab of her teabag out of her mug, hissing as the hot water burned her fingers. 

And Chrollo was staring at Illumi with an intensity that perhaps bordered on disturbing. 

“Hello,” Illumi said, neatly, eyes glued to the table. 

“I like your coat,” Machi said, fingering the outer fabric of it. 

“Thank you,” Illumi said, unzipping it with a sigh. The next period would be starting soon, but he wanted just a few minutes of sitting in a warm building before another snow trek. 

“Illumi, what’re your plans for Ski Weekend?” Shizuku asked. She was weird, but infallibly nice. 

“I don’t really have any yet.” 

“You should come to the city with us. A whole bunch of people are going. Hisoka is--” Illumi didn’t see Pakunoda kick her from underneath the table, but he heard it. Chrollo sipped his tea awkwardly. 

“Anyway, you should come.” 

“I might,” Illumi said with a shrug. Machi poked at the little Moncler patch on the shoulder of Illumi’s coat. 

“Illumi, did you take Roman Civ last year?” Pakunoda asked.

“Yeah.” 

“Who did you have? I have Cardinelli and she’s being  _ such a _ \--” She was interrupted by a loud, familiar cackle and a flash of movement. 

“Did you hear?” Hisoka demanded, dressed in a green sweatshirt and a black winter coat and a pair of gray sweatpants. It was more casual than what he usually wore, more boyish and lazy. Snow dusted the top of his hair, but he didn’t seem to care. 

When it became clear that no one had heard what he had, Hisoka clapped his hands in delight. 

“Some kid got hit with a snowplow so they’re canceling classes for today!” 

“Oh thank the lord,” Machi muttered, sliding down into her seat with a sigh. Hisoka sprawled into the nearest chair. 

“So, what are we gonna do?” 

“I have to rewrite the worst essay I’ve written in my life that was supposed to be due today, so have fun without me.” 

“Bye, Machi,” Pakunoda said cheerily. Chrollo glanced awkwardly between her and Hisoka, avoiding Illumi entirely. 

“I have a lot of planning to do for the next CSA event,” Chrollo said, tucking his binder to his chest and knocking his tea back. 

“Peace,” Hisoka said, holding out a hand as Chrollo walked by. Chrollo took it, curled his fingers around Hisoka’s and then clapped him on the shoulder. 

“See you,” he responded. 

Illumi made a face. 

“He’s ignoring me.” 

“Yeah,” Pakunoda agreed. Hisoka grinned wickedly. 

“He’ll get over it. Even if he doesn’t, you should still come to the city for Ski Weekend. No underclassmen are allowed at the place we’re renting. It’s going to be super fun.” 

“Okay,” Illumi said, pleasantly surprised by her warmth. 

“I’m going to go take a nap,” she announced, grabbing her bag and leaving. 

“And then there were two,” Hisoka said, sounding rather pleased with the two who were left. 

“Let’s go to the library,” Illumi said, wondering when he had decided to start willingly including Hisoka in his plans.

“What? No. Let’s go do some snow stuff.” 

“Like what? Be cold?” 

“We can go sledding,” Hisoka said. Illumi’s nose wrinkled. 

“Oh, I’d rather not. Can we just go back inside?” 

“I thought you liked the snow.” 

“I liked to watch it fall from the window.” 

“We can watch a movie then,” Hisoka said with a concessionary sigh. Illumi seemed pleased with this, smiling the whole way back to the dorm. Hisoka kicked at mounds of snow, knocking icicles off the low eaves of nearby buildings. The snowing had finally stopped, but it would be back before the evening, they both knew. Best, then, to enjoy the sunshine while they could.

* * *

Hisoka had expected Illumi to be more high-maintenance. He had been a bitch, briefly, about the bed, but beyond that, he was a fairly stellar guest. And he was fun to watch, and not just in a sexual way. Hisoka liked seeing how he did things, the way he tied his shoes and the way that he killed spiders--which was with far more courage than himself--and the way that he changed his clothes. 

He didn’t seem to be self-conscious about his body at all, which made sense. It was the kind of body that was almost impossible to be self-conscious about. Hisoka was pretty vain for a teenage boy, but even he could admit that Illumi was about as close to a specimen as it got. 

Still, he took off his clothes with a wariness, like Hisoka was about to wrench them out of his hand and throw them out the window. Or something. 

“I’m not looking,” Hisoka said, two days into their snow-in, as Illumi gingerly took off his shirt. He heard Illumi scoff. 

“Clearly you were because you noticed I was changing.” 

“You should be a lawyer, Illumi.” 

“You should go die in a fire.” 

“ _ Woah _ ,” Hisoka said with an incredulous laugh, glancing up at Illumi. “What on earth is the matter with you?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Are you getting sick of me?” 

“Getting? No.” 

“Seriously, what is your problem?” Illumi’s expression cracked. 

“I’m stressed,” he admitted. 

“No shit,” Hisoka said. 

“Multivariable calculus is going to kill my GPA,” Illumi said miserably. 

“And so you make death threats?” 

“You were antagonizing me.” 

“ _ How? _ ” Hisoka demanded. 

“Sorry.” 

“Well, I can help you. I took multivariable over the summer.” 

“Why?” 

“I dunno. I wanted to be able to do homework and take-home tests for all the kids taking it this year.” 

“For money.” 

“No, so I go to heaven.” There was a pause. “Yes for money, idiot.” 

“So you can help me?” Illumi asked, still shirtless, which was a nice bonus. 

“Only if you don’t put your shirt back on.” 

“Whore,” Illumi snapped, marching into the bathroom to shower. 

* * *

When Illumi did emerge, he looked far more relaxed, shoulders pink from being scrubbed clean. He changed into pajamas and then plopped onto Hisoka’s bed, waiting patiently for Hisoka himself to get up from the couch. 

“Okay,” Hisoka said with a sigh. “What don’t you get?” 

“Everything,” Illumi said. 

“Why are you even taking this class? This is for like--math geniuses. You don’t even like math.” 

“My parents wanted me to.” 

“Your parents are dumb.” 

“Yeah.” 

Illumi had been right, he didn’t understand much, but he was a wicked-fast learner. They breezed through four homework assignments until they came up to a problem that had even Hisoka furrowing his brow over. 

“Damn, I don’t remember this.” 

Illumi buried his head in his hands. 

“I’m going to get fucking--” He stopped himself. 

“Fucking what?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Aw, come on, Illumi. We live together. You can’t keep secrets from me.” 

“I’m going to get the shit beaten out of me if I don’t do well in this class, Hisoka.” His voice was flat, almost bored, but his eyes gleamed with a strange mixture of satisfaction and anger. 

“Okay,” Hisoka said slowly. “Then, we’ll figure this out.” Illumi leaned back onto his elbows and groaned. 

“I hate this.” 

“This isn’t fun, I agree,” Hisoka said. Outside, snow was falling again, in dizzying flurries. Illumi considered for a moment how simple life would be as a snowflake, how brief, too. 

“I want to be snow,” he murmured. 

“Like… cocaine?” 

“Like the fucking snow that is falling from the sky, Hisoka.” 

“Oh.” Hisoka swung his feet idly. “Maybe we should take a break. We can watch a movie or something, whatever you want.” Illumi glared down at the math on his notebook, thumb smudging the darker pencil marks at the edge of the paper. 

“Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll just meet with my teacher tomorrow night or something. You’ve helped enough.” 

“I could probably remember this stuff if I just looked it up, give me--” 

“It’s fine. It’s late. We should sleep.” Illumi shuffled dejectedly to the bathroom and brushed his teeth with pathetic enthusiasm. Hisoka set the math homework on his desk and slipped in behind Illumi to brush his teeth as well. 

“You’re honestly picking this stuff up quicker than I did,” Hisoka said as they collapsed onto his bed. 

“You taught yourself,” Illumi said in the dark. 

“Yeah, but--” 

“Let’s not talk about math anymore.” 

“My old foster mom said people should never go to bed angry.” 

“That’s for married couples, Hisoka, and I’m not angry, I’m tired, which is why I want to sleep. Be quiet.” 

“Okay, goodnight,” Hisoka whispered, uncowed. 

“Goodnight,” Illumi said back. “And thanks for helping.” 

“You know, community service hours and all.” Hisoka felt the mattress rumble as Illumi laughed the most honest laugh he had ever heard from him. Through the window, snow whirled and danced like a million white locusts, like some biblical swarm. The sheets rustled as Illumi shifted to get comfortable. Their forearms brushed and it sent a shot of panic straight through him, like he had been shocked. And then Illumi sighed, soft and sleep-burdened, and rolled from his back to his side, curling up like a child, facing Hisoka. 

His face was already soft with slumber, hair falling artfully across his cheek. A sigh left his mouth, disturbing the edge of the pillowcase. 

Hisoka rolled over onto his other side, back facing Illumi now, and screwed his eyes shut, trying not to think of the way Illumi’s eyelashes brushed the tops of his cheeks. 

He shifted his feet back, stretching out in a too-small bed, and then flinched, hard, when he accidentally touched Illumi. 

“Hisoka,” Illumi groaned, lazily kicking him in the back of the calf with. 

“Sorry,” Hisoka apologized, moving away from Illumi’s shins. 

“Your toes are fucking freezing,” he mumbled. Hisoka rolled over, smiling, and clapped his icy hands over Illumi’s head, pressing his ears to his skull. 

Irritated black eyes glowed at him like those of an animal. 

“You’re so annoying,” Illumi hissed. 

“Night,” Hisoka whispered, squeezing Illumi’s head one last time before rolling back around. Except this time, he leaned back, uncaring, until the back of his shoulder met Illumi’s chest. 

He felt Illumi shift, but he said nothing contrary, did nothing contrary, just sighed in his sleep like an old dog. 

And outside, a blizzard’s last snow fell in a blanket on the ground. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it!! lmk what you thought!


	6. The Scrimmage

Christmases, for Hisoka, were always incredibly boring. Because he was technically a ward of the school, he stayed on campus, supervised by the handful of staff who did not travel for the holidays. 

It wasn’t sad or pathetic, it was just boring. 

Illumi alleviated this in some ways. They texted daily during the winter break, even though it was brief and stilted on Illumi’s part. Hisoka was beginning to understand that much of Illumi’s character was not open hostility, but rather awkwardness and reluctance, which was something of a relief. 

It would be unfair if, on top of everything else, Illumi was socially competent. 

The Zoldyck family was in Paris for the holidays. Hisoka knew this from Milluki’s overly-long Snapchat stories and his frequent Instagram posts. 

His latest post on Instagram had been a series of family portraits, taken by what was clearly a professional photographer. They were in some incredibly luxurious villa in Paris, high up, with the Eiffel tower in the background. 

Each of the five photos he posted, however, were not polished and posed. Kikyo and Silva stood next to each other, with Illumi on his mother’s side, keeping a firm hand on Killua’s shoulder. Milluki stood on his father’s side, a hand on each of his younger siblings, Kalluto and Alluka, if Hisoka remembered correctly. They went to some Swiss boarding school for little children. 

Though the family had been arranged nicely, no one was looking at the cameras, save for the ever-flawless Illumi. 

In the first photo, Kikyo was trying to fix Silva’s unchanging hair. In the second, Killua and Milluki were snarling at each other. In the third, they were still snarling, except this time, Alluka was laughingly tugging at her mother’s dress. 

In the fourth, all seemed to have been sorted out, except Kalluto’s eyes were closed, and Killua was throwing up bunny ears behind Alluka. 

The fifth photo was slightly blurred, on the account of Kikyo lunging angrily for Killua and Silva trying to hold her back. Milluki was cackling at a surprised-looking Kalluto, who had narrowly avoided one of his father’s massive shoulders. 

And of course, amidst all the chaos, Illumi was staring at the camera, head tilted just so, shoulders back, chest up, hair a silken masterpiece. 

Milluki’s caption on the post was,  _ Outtakes from the Zoldyck Family photoshoot. More to come.  _

Hisoka hoped he was telling the truth. Despite the hilarious nature of the photos, seeing Illumi’s perfect, solemn face was a little bit like a breath of fresh air. It was strange to miss someone like this, to miss someone he sometimes could barely stand, someone who was with him daily, and who would be, until the end of spring. 

But any emotions relating to Illumi Zoldyck were famously hard for Hisoka to control. 

Anxious to see more, Hisoka switched to Snapchat, finding Milluki’s private story and skipping the parts where he posted about anime and video games and limited-edition sweatshirts that cost a normal person’s rent. 

The last part of his story was a video, captioned:  _ real-time footage of Illumi rejecting literally the fifth modeling scout TODAY. ppl are obsessed w/ him, someone tell me y.  _

The next video was similar. 

_ SIXTH MODELLING SCOUT,  _ said the caption. In the video, Illumi took a woman’s card in an elegantly gloved hand and blinked at it. 

She spoke slightly agitatedly in French, hands waving, teeth flashing as she smiled. Illumi glanced dubiously at the card, and then at her. And then he spoke in the most gentle, perfect French, slower than her native rapid pace, but comfortable all the same. 

The story then cut to a picture: a man speaking to Illumi while the family was having dinner at a restaurant. Silva was leaning over the table, a hand extended, brows lowered in irritation. 

_ Silva is getting involved LOL. illu is going to get trafficked at this point hehe  _

And the final photo in the series was a selfie: Killua, Milluki, Illumi, and the two younger children, Kalluto and Alluka. 

_ Illumi and i gave Killua wine and he bit Silva lololol,  _ said the caption. It wasn’t hard to imagine, knowing Killua and all. The photo was funny. Killua was red-cheeked and grinning wildly. The two little children were slightly blurred. Milluki was smiling very smugly. 

Still, Hisoka’s attention was drawn to Illumi, epicene and serious, brows lowered over his lovely eyes. He was wearing a black turtleneck, and with the addition of his hair and the dark restaurant, he appeared to be simply a floating face. 

Hisoka put his phone down and sighed loudly, dramatically. 

He was bored, and he missed stupid Illumi, who was in the most romantic city in the world, getting approached by people because he was tall and thin and had the facial proportions of a cartoon. 

It just wasn’t fair. 

He stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Taped there, swaying slightly in it’s suspension, was a sprig of mistletoe. 

Hisoka sighed again, louder than the first, and began to wish, desperately, that the French would come to their senses and have another revolution that would send the Zoldyck’s and the rest of the touristing bourgeoisie scuttling back home. 

* * *

It was a little after six in the evening when Hisoka received a Facetime call, very briefly, from Milluki Zoldyck. 

His phone rang twice, and then the call ended. 

The next call was immediately after, and this time, it was from Illumi. Hisoka answered. 

“I called you with my brother’s phone on accident,” Illumi slurred slightly. Hisoka raised an eyebrow. 

“Where are you?” Illumi seemed to be in a dark place, with loud American music playing and flashing lights. 

“Milluki and I snuck out to a nightclub. It’s our last day in Paris before we go to the countryside for Christmas.” 

“Oh, I see,” Hisoka said. Illumi was definitely drunk, but he wasn’t beyond reason. His eyes glistened with mirth as someone spoke to him off-camera. It was a woman’s voice. 

“ _ Êtes-vous deux américains _ ?” She asked. Illumi had to shout to answer. He spoke in very sloppy French, which the woman cooed at. 

“Désolé, je suis au téléphone!” Illumi added. “I’m on the phone! I can’t talk to you! Talk to my brother! His name is Milluki!” Even with his shouting, it was hard to hear him. The music was terribly loud, and on top of that, the French were terribly loud, and their voices flooded the seemingly small space. 

Illumi’s face returned to the camera and he smiled, cheeks flushed. 

“Sorry, people in France are so  _ forward _ .” 

“You’re very popular over there, I’ve heard.” 

“Who told you?” Illumi demanded, eyes narrowed. 

“Milluki’s social media did.” 

“Oh,” Illumi said, glancing to his right to where Milluki was presumably sitting. 

“Can we get bottle service?” Milluki shouted. The woman giggled. 

“We aren’t paying four grand for fucking bottle service, Milluki,” Illumi snapped. 

“How many drinks have you had?” Hisoka asked. 

“Not that many,” Illumi admitted. It occurred to Hisoka as he said it that he’d never really seen Illumi drunk. 

“Illumi had two drinks last night and passed out!” Milluki helpfully supplied. So, he was a lightweight, then. 

“They were strong drinks,” Illumi growled. 

“Okay, Illumi,” Hisoka said with a laugh, “I’m going to let you go. Text me when you leave so I know you haven’t been murdered.” 

“I’ve only just called you,” Illumi complained. 

“You’re at a nightclub in Paris. Go have fun.” 

“Can we  _ please  _ get bottle service?” Milluki begged. Illumi sighed loudly and pulled a credit card out of the back of his phone. 

“If we get in trouble, it’s your fault.” 

Hisoka heard Milluki laugh gleefully. 

“Go have fun,” Hisoka repeated. Illumi gazed drunkenly at him through the phone. 

“What time is it there?” 

“Six-ish. Go, Illumi.” 

“Okay.” With a forlorn little exhale, Illumi hung up the call. Hisoka tossed his phone immediately onto his bed, foot tapping against the side of his desk anxiously. 

He should be using this time to get ahead for school, work odd jobs if he could. Instead, he was glued to his phone every hour of the day, just to glimpse Illumi in the corners of Milluki’s Instagram lives. So be it, then.

* * *

Hisoka woke to a Facetime call at seven in the morning. 

“ _ Illumi _ ?” He rasped, opening one eye to look at the face on the screen. Illumi was wearing a big, knitted hat and his face was way too close to the camera. 

“Were you sleeping?” 

“It’s seven in the morning, Illumi.” 

“Oh, my bad.” 

“This new place you’re at, it’s pretty.” It was pretty, actually. From what Hisoka could see beyond Illumi’s too-close face, there were snow-covered trees and a white-gray sky. He could hear Killua in the background, leaping and shouting, and a dog barking.

“Is that a dog?” 

“It’s Mike,” Illumi said, sounding indignant, as if offended that Hisoka had forgotten his dog’s name. 

“How’s he in France? I’m confused.” Illumi flipped the camera and showed Mike and Killua, redundantly. 

“Yes, I see Mike, Illumi, thanks. How did you get him to France? Isn’t there like… stuff you have to do?” 

“We just brought him on the plane,” Illumi said blankly. 

“He’s massive, they don’t let dogs that big go on planes!” 

“Yeah,  _ commercial  _ planes, Hisoka.” It took Hisoka, in his sleep-addled state, to understand that implication. What was there, if not commercial planes? How on earth did he and his pack of a family get to France? It didn’t-- _ oh _ . 

“You took a private plane?” Hisoka asked, trying, and failing, to keep the squeak out of his voice. 

“ _ KILLUA, PUT THAT DOWN!”  _ Illumi shouted, the camera bouncing as he started running. 

“God, Killua, are you dumb? Don’t fucking--” Hisoka heard the crunch of snow as Killua was pushed very decidedly onto the ground. 

Illumi returned the camera to his face. 

“Hm? Oh, what? Yeah, we took a private plane.” And then he laughed, flashing the back of his molars. “I mean really, did you expect us to fly commercial?”

At Hisoka’s silence, Illumi peered down at the camera, brows furrowing. All Hisoka could see was a pair of concerned black eyes, bigger than eyes had any right to be. 

“Was that insensitive?” 

“It wasn’t your best moment, Illu, I’ll be honest.” 

“Sorry,” he said, holding eye contact until Hisoka grew uncomfortable and looked away.

“Who are you talking to?” Killua asked, off-camera. 

“No one,” Illumi snapped. 

“Is that your boyfriend?” 

Hisoka heard another crunch of snow, harder this time, and a yelp, presumably Killua, being once again pushed into the snow. 

“Mom!” He shouted in a whining tone. 

Mike barked. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka called over the shouting and the barking and the sounds of Illumi hitting his brother through several layers of snow clothing. 

“One second,” Illumi hissed. Hisoka saw the top of Killua’s head as he ran back inside, cackling with impish delight. 

“Sorry,” Illumi apologized, bringing the camera back to his face, once again, so very close. 

“Can you make the camera further away?” 

Hisoka let out a breath of relief as he saw not only Illumi’s eyes and brows and nose bridge and cheeks, but his whole face, and his neck, and a bit of shoulder. 

“That’s better. I wanted to say that I was going to go back to sleep, since you woke me.” 

“Oh. Well, then I’ll call you later.” 

“Good idea, dear.” It came out without intention. Hisoka tensed and then smiled brilliantly, in the hope that Illumi wouldn’t think too much of it. Illumi’s eyes narrowed. 

“What’s that on your ceiling?” 

“Mistletoe.” 

“Why?” 

“If a teacher comes into my room and accidentally stands under it, they’ll have no choice but to make out with me.” 

“You’re gross,” Illumi said, totally passionless. 

“I’m also tired, Illumi.” 

“Okay, I’ll let you go,” Illumi said, sounding reluctant. 

Hisoka figured that if anyone was to prompt it, it would have to be him. Giddy with nerves, he said:

“Illumi, I miss you.” 

“Hm?” Illumi had been watching geese fly through the sky. 

“I miss you,” Hisoka repeated, impatient now. 

“Oh, I miss you, too.” Illumi blinked and then, like he was a bit out of practice, he gave Hisoka a very small smile, quick and toothless.

“Okay, goodbye,” Hisoka said, unable, really, to say anything else. 

“Sorry I woke you up.” 

“Bring me back fancy cheeses as reparation.” 

“Okay,” Illumi said, looking endearingly determined. 

“Bye,” Hisoka said. Illumi hung up. 

* * *

Three of the five Zoldyck children returned to Belmont like migrating geese, bringing with them unpasteurized cheeses and Christmas sweaters. 

Killua had gotten Gon a pair of new boots to replace his old ones and a sweater that matched his own. 

Illumi had briefly thought of getting Hisoka and himself matching sweaters as well. 

_ Isn’t that what best friends do for each other?  _ He had asked Milluki. 

_ I don’t think that’s a very good idea _ , Milluki had said slowly. Illumi had kept it safe with two-hundred-dollars worth of cheese, perfume from a flower farm in the south of France, and a very old, very expensive bottle of wine that he had swiped from his father’s wine cellar at the chateau. 

“I hope you know I’m selling this,” Hisoka said, staring wide-eyed at the bottle of wine in his lap. 

Illumi shrugged. 

“I don’t like wine.” 

“What do you like, Illumi?” Hisoka asked with a purr, setting the wine and the perfume and the excessive box of cheeses aside. 

“I like green chartreuse.” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s an herbal liqueur.” 

“It’s actually green?” 

“Yes.” 

“Weird. Does it taste good?” 

“I think so.” Illumi cocked his head, and then added: “Can I have some of your cheese? I skipped lunch.” 

“Please,” Hisoka said. He situated himself on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, and started researching the wine he had been given, too see how much it could sell for. 

Illumi picked hesitantly at an aged cheese wrapped in wax paper. 

“The perfume smells nice,” Hisoka said. It was distinctly rose-scented, but there was an underlying spice to it, a sweet musk that reminded Hisoka of a velvet-lined room with carved wooden chairs and portraits of old men. 

“It’s unisex.” 

“Thank goodness.” 

* * *

_ Illumi: Captain-led practice at four pm this friday.  _

_ Hisoka: can’t wait ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ  _

_ Illumi: bring running shoes in addition to cleats. _

_ Chrollo: are we going to goal? _

_ Hisoka: yeah! _

_ Illumi: maybe.  _

When Illumi arrived at the field, about ten minutes before four, Hisoka and Chrollo were already there, sitting cross-legged, putting on their gear. 

“Hello,” Illumi said. Chrollo and Hisoka looked up and gave him twin smiles, one being a bit more mischievous than the other. 

“Do you actually want to run today?” Hisoka asked, stretching his arms up into the air. 

“Yes.” 

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Chrollo, break the tie,” Illumi commanded. Chrollo’s eyes widened and then he tapped his chin in contemplation. 

“Running is important,” he began seriously. Hisoka groaned. “But, it might not be a good idea to tire everyone out before we play. I have a feeling our younger players will be out of shape.” 

“One mile then,” Illumi hissed. Hisoka dragged his hands down his face. 

“Fine.” 

“And you’ll be in the back, Hisoka, to make sure no one falls behind.” Hisoka shrugged. 

As an underclassman, he had always been at the back of the pack when they ran. He and Chrollo used to “get lost” during campus runs, “losing” the team around a corner. They usually went to the dining hall to eat peanut butter off of spoons, Hisoka indulging Chrollo by listening to him talk about his stupid debate team, or Chrollo indulging Hisoka by watching him fail spectacularly at a sleight-of-hand card trick. 

After about twenty minutes, they would do some jumping jacks, splashed water in their hair to mimic sweat, and then jog back to the field, gasping pathetically. 

“ _ We ran everywhere looking for you! _ ” The older captains always bought it, but now Hisoka  _ was  _ a captain, and Illumi was more shrewd than he let on. 

Illumi began his series of stretches; Hisoka and Chrollo ogled him.

\---

When the entire team arrived, they started their run. Illumi was smart in keeping it to laps around the field so that he could keep an eye on everyone. Chrollo ran at his side, keeping an easy pace, eyes drifting to the slender flex of Illumi’s ankles, to the swell of his quad muscle every time his foot met the ground. 

If Illumi knew he was being leered at, he didn’t let on. 

Hisoka bounced at the back, talking loudly to a pair of round-eyed freshmen. 

“We’re scrimmaging today, then?” Chrollo asked, kicking a stone off the pitch as they ran. 

“I think so.” 

“Good, I brought my goalie gear.” 

Chrollo had been the obvious choice for captainship, but at the end of their junior year, he had announced that with Debate Team and CSA and Young Libertarians--his newly founded political club-- he would simply be too busy. 

“Please remove me from consideration,” he had said. Illumi remembered the little strike of delight he felt. One less person to compete with. 

Hisoka had been unimpressed, eyes rolling as Chrollo murmured a modest thanks. 

“Illumi!” Hisoka shouted from the back. 

“Yes?” Illumi shouted in return. 

“Can we stop?” 

“Sure.” 

They stopped. 

The team moved on to some simple passing while Chrollo and the two backup goalies warmed up. Hisoka absently cradled a ball in his stick.

“We look good this year,” he mused. 

“Our new backup goalie is good. He’s not Chrollo, but he’s good,” Illumi replied, waiting a little impatiently for Hisoka to pass him the ball. 

“Our defense is going to be shit next year.” 

“Not my problem,” Illumi said with a shrug. Hisoka snorted, nose lifting to the sky. 

“I’m bored, let’s scrimmage.”. 

\--

Hisoka and Illumi stood on either side of a white line, the rest of the team grouped before them. 

“Rock paper scissors,” Illumi said, holding out his hands to Hisoka. They would play to decide who would go first to pick a player for their team. 

“On shoot?” He asked. 

“No, on scissors.” 

“Okay.” 

“ _ Rock, paper, scissors-- _ Hisoka, you went too late.” 

“Ah, sorry.” 

“ _ Rock, paper, scissors!” _

“Damn,” Hisoka said, without heat. Illumi smiled triumphantly. 

“Okay, I pick first. It’s a normal scrimmage, ten a side.” 

Illumi scanned the team in front of him, eyes narrowing in observation. It wasn’t genuine. Hisoka knew who he was going to pick. 

“Chrollo.” 

Hisoka grimaced. It was expected, but still, it was irritating. Chrollo was the only goalie on the team, and one of the few goalies in the league, who could handle Hisoka’s shots with regularity. 

When it was Hisoka’s turn, he nabbed their best defender, a fellow senior. Illumi’s eyes went even more narrow. 

He took a starting middie, which Hisoka found odd. Briefly, Hisoka considered taking a middie before Illumi hoarded them all, but he went with another good defender instead. 

Illumi grabbed another middie. Including himself, that was a full starting midfield lineup. 

Hisoka picked the last respectable middie. 

Illumi picked a striker. 

Hisoka picked a striker. 

Their teams slowly fleshed themselves out until each squad had ten players, with two subs each. The extra goalie, a freshman, loitered at the endline, ready to volunteer should either of the two on the field need a sub. 

Illumi’s team set-up was strange. He was midfielder heavy, with a modest array for defense and attack. 

“Hey, what’s the lineup, Hisoka?” Someone asked. He blinked, shaking his head and turning to his team. 

“Illumi has Chrollo, which is annoying, but his attack line is lacking. Defense is going to be important, it always is, but I need the attackmen and midfield to be as direct as possible. I want to score enough goals to discourage them.” 

Hisoka had the defensive line set themselves up, trusting the seniors to know what to do. The same went for the midfield. 

He was confident that his attackline would be formidable enough, especially up against the wash that was Illumi’s-- 

Hisoka froze. 

Across the midfield line was Illumi’s team, already set up, except, where Illumi should have been residing, keenly in the center, there was instead a talented junior. 

At the very front, in an attackmen's position, Illumi was standing, tapping his stick against the ground with an idle intensity. 

Hisoka was starting to understand why Illumi had grabbed so many middies. 

For this game, he would be a striker. 

\--

“Ready?” He called from across the field. Hisoka pulled his helmet down and felt his stomach do a somersault. 

“Yup,” he shouted back. The freshman goalie at the sidelines whistled through his fingers, and they began. 

\--

Illumi was an irritating person to defend against. He wasn’t as strong or as flashily technical as Hisoka was, but he was incredibly fast, skilled, and he played dirty. 

Hisoka was glad he grabbed two of their best defenders, but even they were having a hard time dealing with Illumi. Blessedly, Illumi had toned it down for practice, to avoid causing any permanent injuries, but he wasn’t toning it down enough. 

And then there was Chrollo, who was hunkered down in the goal, blocking every one of Hisoka’s shots like his life depended on it. 

When Hisoka called for a break for both teams, he watched with a sick curl to his stomach as Illumi tangled his fingers into the wiring of Chrollo’s helmet and tugged his head forward. 

“Well done,” he heard him say in that short, sharp voice. Chrollo’s eyes went as wide as moons, wet with pride. They were winning by one goal, but Hisoka was due to score soon. He was starting to tire Chrollo out, even as he was tiring out himself. 

“Break over,” he called, eyeing Chrollo as he patted Illumi’s lower back. 

“I’m going to the midfield, Max, take over as striker,” Hisoka decided. 

“Hah?” 

“Do it! Thanks!” And then Hisoka was jogging to the midfield and taking up his new spot in the center. He saw Illumi watch him with open suspicion, which was both understandable and wise. 

As soon as the goalie whistled for them to start again, Illumi surged forward, snatching the ball midair from a pass and slicing down the field. Hisoka followed, leaving his position behind. He came up onto Illumi’s blind spot, and just before he sent a shot at their not-as-good-as-Chrollo goalie, Hisoka barreled him from behind, shoulder digging into his ribcage, arm bracing against his back. 

Illumi went down with an ungainly squawk, immediately rolling onto his back to glare at his assailant. Hisoka grinned down at him, eyes flashing behind the cage of his helmet. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Illumi hissed, chest heaving. 

“Consider it payback for this fall.” 

“Illumi? Are you okay?” Chrollo called from the other end of the field. The rest of the team stood in silence, breathing heavy, watching their two captains nervously. 

“Fine,” Illumi shouted, grabbing the bottom of Hisoka’s jersey to help pull himself up. As soon as he was standing, he grimaced, audibly, and wavered. 

“You good?” Hisoka asked, still smiling, though concern flitted through his expression like a rabbit through the long grass. 

“Maybe we should call it a day?” Chrollo asked, coming out of the goal to see Illumi up close. He shucked his helmet and began to pull off his gloves. 

“It’s fine,” Illumi said. 

“We should end. It’s late, anyway,” Hisoka said, eyeing Illumi’s hunched posture with a frown. 

“Game’s over!” He shouted. 

“Losing team needs to run laps,” Chrollo said, looking at Hisoka, who was still stuck to Illumi’s side. 

“They are,” Hisoka said, gesturing to his team. 

“You’re part of the team,” Chrollo said. 

“I’m taking Illumi to the lockers.” 

“I can do that.” 

“I don’t need to go to the fucking lockers,” Illumi hissed. “I’ll be back.” He stormed off the field and trudged through the unkempt grass surrounding the turf field to the thin part of the immediate forest. Hisoka could see even from here as Illumi bent at the waist and vomited. 

“You’re such an asshole,” Chrollo said darkly. Hisoka rolled his eyes. 

“He’s fine. He’s throwing up because he overworked himself.” 

“That was the most blatant cheating I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll try to be less blatant next time, then.” 

“I don’t even know why he likes you,” Chrollo went on, eyeing Hisoka with unsubtle derision. “He deserves much better.” 

“And is that you, then?” Hisoka sneered. He was taller than Chrollo and he used those few inches to his advantage, getting as close as possible so he could look down at him through his helmet. 

“Maybe,” Chrollo said with a shrug. “It just shouldn’t be you.”

“Illumi and I are friends.” Hisoka was surprised to find his voice getting hot and defensive. 

“Some friends you are,” Chrollo scoffed. “You treat him like a punching bag.” 

“And what the fuck do you know?” 

“Hisoka, go run with your team,” Illumi rasped from a few feet away. He had a plastic Gatorade squeeze bottle in his hand and his cheeks were flushed all the way up to the temples. 

Hisoka looked him over, starting at his ankles and working up past pink knees and thighs trembling with tired muscle. His boxy lacrosse shirt was hitched at one side, caught on the waistband of his shorts. He looked tired. 

“Whatever,” Hisoka said, joining his team mid-lap and taking the lead. 

Chrollo and Illumi stared at each other across a ten-foot chasm of turf. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” Illumi scoffed, squirting water directly into his mouth. “Hisoka was just pissed off we were winning. He acts out like a child when he’s frustrated.” 

“I guess you would know,” Chrollo said without hostility. 

Illumi glared at him, face pinching hatefully in an expression that resembled his mother’s. 

“Shut up, Chrollo.” And with that, he marched to where the rest of his winning team was lazily stretching. 

Hisoka’s team was almost done with their running. 

When the entire team was gathered again, Illumi and Hisoka led a proper team stretch. They spoke briefly about the game, offering critique to certain positions. Hisoka spoke more than Illumi. He was good at explaining things, good at criticizing people without ruffling feathers. That was where Illumi fell short. 

Besides, Illumi was still looking very green from Hisoka’s tackle, and the water hadn’t done much to rinse the taste of bile in his mouth.

“Okay,” Illumi said with a sigh after Hisoka seemed finished. “Good practice. Don’t treat your body like shit. Our real season starts soon.” 

A pack of nearly thirty boys drifted from the turf field to the lockers, chattering noisily, rubbing the sweat off their arms. Illumi and Hisoka trailed at the back. 

Illumi was taking Hisoka’s uncharacteristic silence as a timid apology, and he wasn’t keen to disturb it. 

“Did you ask your parents about this weekend?” Hisoka asked, glancing sideways in a strange submissive way. Illumi kicked a pebble off the pathway. 

“Yeah. I can go on Friday night. My curfew’s two.” Illumi’s voice was cold. 

“That’s not bad at all. Just get there early. Fridays are the best days to go. Thursday nights are usually pretty shit. Someone gets too excited and drinks too much and then everyone is convinced they have alcohol poisoning and it's a mess.” 

Ski Weekends were extended weekends that started the moment the students got off school on Thursday, and ended with classes again on Wednesday of the next week. Five days of drinking and sex and friend groups splitting and rejoining, or, for some people, actual skiing. 

“Feitan is bringing a lot of drugs,” Hisoka added, eager to fill up the silence. He didn’t know how to treat Illumi right now. He knew he was angry with him, but he was also still choosing to walk with him back to the lockers.

“Good for him,” Illumi muttered. 

By the time they reached the lockers, most of the team had left already, save for a few stragglers. Illumi sat down on one of the benches against the wall with a heavy sigh, eyeing his team as they walked by.

It did not escape Hisoka that Illumi was waiting to change until the lockers had cleared out.

“Wanna shower in my room?” Hisoka offered. Illumi kicked off his cleats. 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll shower here. I need to leave soon.” Illumi hated the gym showers; the fact that he would willingly use them was telling. 

“Okay,” Hisoka said awkwardly. He showered quickly, and by the time he was finished, the last few players, including a watchful Chrollo, had finally left. Illumi sighed a little, in fatigue, and pulled his shorts off. 

His gaze flickered leftward, to where Hisoka was standing. 

“Aren’t you going to leave?” 

“No,” Hisoka said. Illumi scowled. 

“Can you seriously just get out?” 

“No,” Hisoka repeated, smiling. “Go on, take off your shirt.” Hisoka was given a truly venomous look, the kind of look that maybe should have scared him, if he wasn’t so delighted by it.

Illumi’s solution was to go into the shower with his clothes on, stripping them after he had pulled the curtain closed and throwing them in a ball on the floor. 

Hisoka stayed. While Illumi showered, he cleaned out his locker--there were some very old, half-eaten protein bars in there--and ran a comb through his sweat-damp hair. 

The shower curtain suddenly drifted open and the water was shut off. Hisoka craned his neck, trying to look into the shower stall before Illumi came out. 

“Hisoka,” Illumi began in a quiet voice. “Can you hand me my clean clothes?” Hisoka could see the folded pile of clothing on the nearby bench: underwear, sweatpants, socks, a sweatshirt. 

“Just come out and get them,” Hisoka said. 

“Please,” Illumi added, and it was kind of sad. Hisoka was sort of tempted to be nice and hand him his clothes. Sort of. 

“Come get them, Illumi.” 

“Hisoka--” Illumi stopped himself with a growl.

Hisoka heard the shower curtain wrench open and then Illumi was stomping through the lockers, pausing in front of the bench where his clothes were. 

“Fuck off,” Illumi snarled, preemptively. 

“Was that from me?” Hisoka asked, throat bobbing. There was a massive bruise stretching from Illumi’s hip to the top of his ribcage. It was green and yellow at the edges, darker in the center--pretty, if Hisoka could forget what it was and who it was on. Every breath looked pained. 

“You aren’t that strong,” Illumi said with a bitter scoff. There was a slow, heavy silence. Hisoka could feel it settle on his shoulders, could feel his stomach start to turn with something that must have been guilt.

Illumi had his hand braced against the back wall of lockers, and though he wasn’t trying to hide the bruise, he was hunched over, glaring at Hisoka through a veil of black hair.

“Illumi, sit down,” Hisoka said. 

“I just want to put on my clothes and go, Hisoka.” 

“Sit down.” 

Miraculously, Illumi listened, shifting his clothing aside to sit on the bench, facing Hisoka who sat on a neighboring one just a few feet away.

“It’s your dad, then?” Hisoka’s voice was as rough as ripped paper. It couldn’t have been Kikyo. He had met that woman once, at a lacrosse game, and she was a carbon-copy of Illumi, except tinier, much, much tinier. Illumi’s height and his strength came from his father. 

“Does it matter?” Illumi asked. 

“I want to know.” 

“Yeah, my dad.” 

“Your mom doesn’t?” 

“She watches.”  _ Watches  _ was said with a delicate sneer. 

“Just you?” 

“Mostly me. Sometimes Killua, sometimes.” Killua’s name seemed to send a shudder through him, and suddenly, Illumi’s hyper-surveillance started to make sense. 

“It keeps happening,” Hisoka said, staring at the way Illumi breathed, like a very large dying animal. “Why does it keep happening? What do you do?” 

“Are you going to let me finish changing?” Illumi was shivering from the cold, goosebumps breaking out all over his skin. 

“I’m sorry I hit you so hard,” Hisoka said, rushed and breathless. He looked up at Illumi, expecting to see . 

To his surprise, Illumi was grinning, a little unhinged. 

He leaned forward, bridging the gap between benches and then lifted his hand. Hisoka flinched, only to sigh as all Illumi did was flick him on the forehead, just hard enough to sting. 

“I’m used to way worse. You aren’t special,” Illumi said, casual, but very firm. 

“Can we go get dinner?” Hisoka asked, watching Illumi step into his boxers. 

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling a sweatshirt on over his nude torso. It was big on him, but it couldn’t have been Milluki’s because it was a lacrosse sweatshirt. 

“Okay,” Hisoka said faintly. 

* * *

They decided on a restaurant a walking distance from campus, a small Vietnamese place that served all the food on red dishware. The hostess, who was on the phone, pointed them distractedly to an empty table at the corner of the restaurant. 

Illumi led the way, taking the booth side of the table. Hisoka didn’t mind all that much. The other seat was a wide, low leather chair that was scratched and battered at the arms. 

“Are you staying with Chrollo and them all weekend?” Illumi asked, peering at the menu with his wide eyes. 

“Yeah,” Hisoka said with a groan, “but Chrollo and I can’t stand each other.” 

“I’ve noticed.” 

“Whatever.” 

“If I get some pho, will you eat it?” 

“I’m getting the banh mi,” Hisoka said, “and summer rolls.” 

“Well, that isn’t helpful,” Illumi replied, furrowing his brow. 

When the waitress came by, Illumi ordered for the both of them. 

“He’ll have the banh mi, and I’ll do this pho with the chicken, and then two orders of summer rolls. And two hot teas. Please.” 

Illumi sank back in the booth and yawned. Hisoka imagined sharp cat fangs and a rough pink tongue. 

“Have you started the essay for English?” 

“No,” Illumi admitted with a snort. “It’s the least of my worries, to be honest. I have fucking multivariable the day before.” 

Their school set up finals the week of Ski Weekend. It made the week hellish, but it also made the subsequent time off all the more euphoric. 

“I can help you with multivariable,” Hisoka said. 

“Do you have a lot to do?” 

“Kind of,” Hisoka said with a shrug. Their teas were set down in front of them. 

“Thanks,” Illumi said faintly. 

“I have three essays due for our English class on Thursday.” Hisoka’s smile was wry. 

“Who are you writing for?” 

“Machi and uh… Caden.” 

“Are you done with them?” 

“I’ve finished all but my own,” Hisoka said, gingerly cupping his mug of tea. “Other than that, I don’t have that much to do. All my difficult stuff is at the beginning of the week, so I can help you with math.” 

“Okay,” Illumi said over his mug of tea. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Why are you so obsessed with this all of a sudden?” Illumi asked hotly. 

“I’m not obsessed. I’m  _ asking _ .” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Why did you play?” 

“Because it’s going to keep happening in the spring and I will need to play then. I’m not going to…” Illumi looked frustrated, “... encourage weak behavior.” 

“They could be broken.” He meant Illumi’s ribs. 

“They aren’t broken.” 

“How do you--”

“I know what broken ribs feel like.” 

Their food was set down. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka began impatiently, as soon as the waitress was out of earshot. 

“I’m going to eat my soup,” Illumi said simply. 

“You’re so frustrating.” 

“We’re a match made in heaven, then.” 

“Illumi--” 

“I’m eating my soup,” Illumi said again, blinking owlishly at him. 

“You suck.” 

“You know,” Illumi said, putting his chopsticks down with a sigh. “If you weren’t such a voyeuristic creep, you wouldn’t know about any of this,” and he gestured to his torso. “I wouldn’t have told you about it, okay? Just fucking stop.” 

“If you didn’t want me to see you naked, then you wouldn’t hang out with me!”

“Are you hearing yourself?” A pair of nearby patrons glanced nervously at the two boys. 

“Let’s stop,” Hisoka said, sliding back into his chair, petulant. 

“Fine.” 

“I’m sorry I tackled your frail body to the ground.” 

Inexplicably, Illumi laughed. 

“And I’m sorry--well, hold on, I have nothing to apologize for.” 

“You were being withholding,” Hisoka pointed out. 

“I’m allowed to withhold, it’s my own life.” 

“But I want to know everything about your life,” Hisoka said, head tilting, a sinister smile spreading over his face. Illumi rolled his eyes. 

Hisoka wasn’t deterred. He leaned over the table, palms braced on either side of the dishware. 

“Tell me everything,” Hisoka cooed, eyes widened in an over-exaggerated display. 

“You’re so weird,” Illumi said, but he was smiling, genuinely smiling, so Hisoka considered it a job well-done. 

“I know,” Hisoka said, settling back into his chair. They ate in silence for a few minutes, companionable. 

“Hey,” Hisoka interrupted. Illumi glanced upwards. 

“Do you think Killua and Gon are like…” Hisoka paused, considering what he wanted to actually ask. 

“Probably,” Illumi said with a shrug. 

“Do your parents know?” 

“I think they can tell.” 

“Do they care?” 

“They let Gon sleepover all the time,” Illumi said. 

“Why can’t I sleepover at your house?” Hisoka asked with a pout. 

“I don’t like you,” Illumi reminded him. 

“Your dad likes the way I play lacrosse.” 

“Go fuck my dad then,” Illumi said coolly. Hisoka arched an eyebrow. There was an implication there that was making his heart jump. 

“Do you think Gon and Killua have kissed?” 

“Don’t be gross.” 

“They’re twelve! I had my first kiss around then.” 

“That’s disgusting. I don’t want to talk about my little brother in that context.” 

“Are you gonna eat that?” Hisoka asked, jabbing his chopsticks at one of Illumi’s summer rolls. 

“Yes,” Illumi said, eating it out of spite. 

“Pig.” 

Illumi, to Hisoka’s disappointment, didn’t react. 

* * *

“I’m gonna go pay, okay?” Hisoka’s voice lulled Illumi from his daydreaming. Lacrosse this afternoon, and his subsequent argument with Hisoka, had wiped him out. It was taking all he had not to fall asleep upright.

“I can pay,” he mumbled, reaching for his card. 

“It’s okay,” Hisoka said, oddly gentle. He went up to the front before Illumi could protest properly, and when he returned, Illumi was standing up, ready to leave. The hood of his lacrosse sweatshirt was up, hiding everything but his mouth and nose in shadows. 

Hisoka tugged him out of the restaurant by his oversized sleeve. 

“Are you getting picked up at campus?” 

“Yeah,” Illumi said with a yawn. 

“Let’s walk fast, I’m cold.” 

Hisoka didn’t release his grip on Illumi’s sweatshirt until they were back on campus, blue lanterns glowing serenely at random intervals, lamp posts giving off circles of yellow light. 

Illumi’s car was indeed waiting. Milluki was standing outside it with a pack of his friends. He was unbelievably popular, considering the sheer amount of time he spent playing video games at home. It seemed the kids in his friend group were all like that: anti-social gamers who slept with body pillows. They eyed the two older boys as they came, lingering specifically on Hisoka, as if he and Illumi were the weird ones. 

“Okay, bye,” Hisoka said to Illumi as they reached the car. 

“We need to figure out when we’re having Team Night,” Illumi said, very purposefully keeping his back to Milluki and his friends. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay, see you on Monday. Thanks for dinner.” 

“Yup,” Hisoka said weakly. Milluki and Illumi disappeared into the back of the car and then it was just Hisoka and a bunch of anime enthusiasts, staring at each other from a respectable distance. 

Hisoka threw them a peace sign and made his way back to his dorm, hands shoved in his pockets to ward off the cold. As he walked, he noticed a pair of students sitting together on a very popular bench underneath an oak tree. In the dark, it was hard to make out faces, but Machi’s pink hair was unmistakable. 

“Hisoka!” Shizuku’s voice, he noted. 

“Hello, ladies.” Machi made a face, but she still scooted over, an invitation for him to sit. 

He did, with a sigh. 

“What’s up?” She asked. Her arm was interlocked with Shizuku’s. They were bundled up like grandmothers, noses peeking out from chunky-knitted scarves. 

“I had dinner with Illumi at that Vietnamese place.”

“They have good pho,” Shizuku said. 

“What’s your guys’ deal?” Machi asked. 

“I dunno,” Hisoka said, and he laughed exasperatedly after. “I really have no idea. We keep getting in fights.” 

“Illumi can be contrary,” Shizuku said, diplomatic as ever. 

“And you rile people up for entertainment,” Machi muttered. 

“What are you two doing on this bench?”

“We meet here every night and talk about how our day went,” Shizuku said. “It’s a healthier communication alternative to texting.” 

“Ah. Maybe Illumi and I should do that.” 

“Chrollo is literally infatuated, by the way.” 

“Oh, I know,” Hisoka said, fingers curling in his pockets. He flinched as Shizuku reached over and patted his arm. 

“Don’t worry so much about all of this. You’ll probably get together next weekend. There’s going to be alcohol and no supervision, and I think Feitan is bringing lots of drugs.” 

“He is,” Machi confirmed. 

“I guess you’re right. If it happens, it happens. Oh, but I  _ want  _ it to happen.” Hisoka tipped his head back. Machi scoffed.

“Then be nicer to him.” 

“He’s mean to me, too.” 

“You’re both mean, that’s why you have no friends.” 

“We’re your friends,” Shizuku said kindly, reaching over Machi to pat his arm again. 

“I’m going back to my room,” Hisoka said, standing with a groan. “I’ll leave you two to your bench. Sorry for interrupting.” 

“Bye, Hisoka,” the girls said in unison. Without his presence on the bench, it felt a little colder. They huddled together even closer, watching a tuft of bright red hair bob down a path and melt into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of plot and excess of dialogue, I just had to get this chapter out before the next--which is a doozy! I also bumped up the chapter-count to 10, which is probably subject to change, again. I have an ending written for this fic, but it's definitely a long way away. 
> 
> Don't fear though, the slow burn is coming to an end pretty soon. thanks for reading!! comments are my life's blood :D


	7. Ski Weekend (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ski Weekend is here! :)

_Illumi: Hisoka_

_Hisoka: Hello!!!!!_

_Illumi: I need help._

_Hisoka: are u okay??_

_Illumi: how do i buy a train ticket?_

_Hisoka: ?_

_Illumi: please tell me how to buy a train ticket._

_Hisoka: okay_

_Hisoka: wait just ft me_

_Hisoka: you mean the metro, right?_

_Illumi: i asked someone and they helped me. I am on my way._

_Hisoka: call me if you need help_

_Hisoka: stupid_

“Is Illumi coming?” Machi asked from the kitchen. The place they had rented out together was decently sized, and instead of a traditional galley kitchen, which was popular in the city, there was an open one, with an island lit up by glitzy pendant lights. 

“He didn’t know how to take the train,” Hisoka said with a laugh. Chrollo looked up from his phone on the window seat. 

“He’s coming?” 

“He’s taking the train,” Hisoka said, “learning to slum it.” 

“Leorio said he was bringing alcohol,” Pakunoda mused, elbows propped up on the kitchen island. Shizuku twirled a strand of her hair. “But, we should probably bring more. I think a lot of people are coming tonight.” 

“I have a fake,” Hisoka said with a lazy raise of his hand. 

“I do, too,” Machi said. 

“Illumi told me he was bringing stuff,” Chrollo said. Hisoka’s mouth twitched. 

“He’s probably going to bring weird, expensive shit,” Machi said with a wave of her hand. Chrollo stiffened, clearly taking offense to that. 

“I’ll get some stuff, then,” he said, standing up from the window seat with a sigh. 

“I can come with you,” Hisoka offered brightly, just to be annoying. 

“No,” Chrollo replied quickly. Hisoka sank bank into the couch. As soon as Chrollo left, he groaned. 

“ _Illumi told me he was bringing alcohol_ , he’s so fucking annoying.” Pakunoda came all the way from the kitchen to swat Hisoka on the side of his head. 

“Don’t be a dick.” 

“It’s not like you’ve laid claim,” Phinks said from the top of the stairs. Feitan stood behind him like a little demon, waiting in the shadows with a dab pen in his mouth. 

“Huh?” Hisoka asked. 

“You and Illumi aren’t fucking or anything,” Feitan said, voice very cool. “He can pine all he wants.” 

“It’s annoying.” 

“You’re annoying,” Feitan muttered. 

“You’re short.” 

Machi laughed. 

* * *

Illumi arrived at the apartment before Chrollo had returned with extra alcohol. Already, Leorio, Melody, and Kurapika were there, along with a few other seniors. They all loitered in the living room as Melody tried to connect to a bluetooth speaker. There were a few plastic cups strewn on the island already, filled with varying mixes of coke and gin and vodka. 

_Illumi: I’m here_

Hisoka leapt up from the couch and flew down the stairwell of the apartment building. He was vaguely buzzed, but nothing threatening. 

“Hello.” Illumi was standing in a nice black coat with his school bag over his shoulder. He looked handsome. Hisoka wanted to wrap him up in his arms and kiss him. 

“Hi,” Hisoka said, a little breathless. “Did you bring your homework?” He added, gesturing to his backpack and smiling a little. Illumi scowled. 

“I was told to bring alcohol, so I brought some.” 

“Oh,” Hisoka said, surprised. “Good.” 

They walked up the stairs together, and when they came in through the door, Machi and Shizuku cheered. 

“Illumi brought homework,” Phinks said with a light-hearted sneer. Hisoka frowned. 

“It’s alcohol,” he said shortly. Illumi glanced sideways at him, an eyebrow raised, and then set his backpack on the counter. It made a heavy clanking sound. 

He proceeded to pull out four handles--premium Grey Goose vodka, a botanical gin, Fireball, and Bombay Sapphire. 

“Two gins,” Hisoka noted, impressed. 

“And green chartreuse,” Illumi added, producing one last bright green bottle. 

“That stuff is awful,” Shizuku said, eyeing it like it had hurt her. Maybe it had. 

“I like it,” Illumi said. 

“More for you, then,” Hisoka replied. 

“Well done, Illumi,” Phinks said, patting Illumi’s head with a massive hand. Hisoka felt a little snarl of irritation, but he kept a smile on his face. 

“Chrollo’s coming back with even more,” Pakunoda said. Hisoka heard Kurapika make a sound of displeasure. Leorio shushed him with a fond laugh. They were stuck together on the window seat Chrollo had been occupying, a red plastic cup shared between the two of them. Kurapika met Hisoka’s gaze and waved, a small, friendly thing. Hisoka waved back. 

He and Kurapika had been in Chemistry last year together. They were unlikely friends. 

“I’m going to put my stuff upstairs,” Illumi said. He stomped--he was in boots--up the stairs, a specter of black. 

When he returned, he was in socks, and his coat was gone. Machi handed him a plastic cup and he sniffed it. 

“Gin is meant to be served in a cocktail.” 

Machi gave him a long look. 

“Well, if you want to make a cocktail for yourself, princess, you’re welcome to.” 

“I’m going to have some green chartreuse,” he muttered, sliding on socked feet to the kitchen island and pouring himself a sizable amount, neat. 

“Can I try some?” Hisoka asked. Illumi sipped his cup and then handed it over. Hisoka drank right where Illumi’s mouth had been.

“Shizuku was right, Illumi. This stuff is really bad.” 

“I think it’s nice.” 

“Of course you do.” 

They stood at the kitchen island and lazily watched the growing crowd. Pakunoda and Shizuku took shots together, gagging in the aftermath. Someone had already set up cup pong, which Hisoka thought was a little premature. 

“Chrollo’s here,” Illumi said, setting his cup down. Indeed. 

Chrollo handed two more bottles of alcohol to Phinks, who set them up on the coffee table. He scanned the room in an attempt to be casual, but when he saw Illumi, he stiffened like a dog catching the scent of a squirrel. Illumi waved. 

_Please don’t come over_ , Hisoka begged. 

Chrollo started to come over. 

“I’m going to go smoke with Feitan,” Hisoka muttered. Illumi blinked. 

“Okay, I’ll join you in a second. I think Chrollo is coming over.” 

“Look at that,” Hisoka said dryly. Before he had to actually interact with Chrollo, he slipped out onto the balcony, where Feitan and Phinks were smoking, bundled up in their coats and hats. 

“It’s fucking cold,” Hisoka said. Feitan tilted his head back and grinned. 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re using pens. You can be inside, you know.” 

“It’s loud in there--” Melody had figured out the speaker it seemed, because at that moment, music blared from inside. 

Phinks handed Hisoka a pen and he took a long drag. 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Feitan said. 

“I don’t, usually.” 

“It was stupid to leave Illumi in there alone. Chrollo is probably all over him.” 

“That’s why I left,” Hisoka said with a scoff, “he was panting like a dog.” 

Phinks howled like a dog and then laughed. 

“I came out here because it was quiet,” Feitan said coolly. “Keep it that way.” Phinks squished Feitan’s face with one hand. 

“So grumpy. I’m going inside. I wanna get crossed.” Phinks stood with a sigh, gesturing to the chair for Hisoka to take. 

Hisoka sat. Feitan was rubbing at his face sourly, his pen held between his teeth. 

“Can I?” Hisoka asked, reaching for it. Feitan brought his head closer, so Hisoka could grab it. 

“I wouldn’t worry,” Feitan said, eyes scanning the horizon. Hisoka was starting to think that it wasn’t just the noise that had sent Feitan outside. Maybe, he just liked the city lights. 

“Worry about what?” Hisoka asked around a puff of smoke. 

“Illumi and Chrollo. Illumi isn’t into it.” 

“Oh and you would know?” 

“Chrollo is so _easy,_ man. If I wasn’t friends with him I would bully him.” 

“He’s hot,” Hisoka said mournfully. 

“Barely.” 

“I think so.” 

“Well, that’s a you problem. Illumi’s into you, don’t worry. No one would hang out with you that much if they didn’t.” Hisoka smiled around the end of Feitan’s pen. 

“Yeah.” 

Behind them, the door opened and Illumi slipped onto the balcony like a cat. He dragged a little iron chair from the other end of the balcony and sat in between Hisoka and Feitan. 

“Hello.” There was a cup of Fireball in his hands. 

“Want some?” Feitan offered a second pen from inside his coat. Illumi took the pen and wrinkled his nose, looking to Hisoka in confusion. 

“Press the button,” he said, smiling with an uncontrollable fondness, “and inhale. You’ve smoked before, right?” 

“No,” Illumi said, bringing his lips to the pen and inhaling. 

“Hold it in your lungs,” Feitan instructed, and then he took a gloved hand and pressed Illumi’s chest with two fingers. 

“Hold it… exhale.” Illumi coughed. 

“That happens in the beginning,” Feitan said, taking the pen from his fingers and bringing it to his own mouth. 

“Can I do it again?” 

“Sure,” Feitan said with a shrug. Hisoka wordlessly held his pen to Illumi’s lips, watching with a baited breath as Illumi inhaled and kept it in for a little longer, before exhaling with a sigh. 

“Nice,” Feitan breathed, head tipped back, face to the sky. Illumi took a long draw from his plastic cup of Fireball. 

“Can I?” Hisoka asked, already taking the cup from his hands. Illumi nodded, eyelids lowering. 

“Oh, it’s nice.” 

“The weed?” Feitan asked with a snort. Hisoka finished off the cup of Fireball, nose wrinkling at the taste. 

“Yeah,” Illumi said. 

“I’m going inside. Hisoka, you can keep the pen.” 

“It’s okay, I’m going to grab some vodka. Illumi, I’ll be right back.” Illumi bobbed his head pleasantly as Hisoka and Feitan left. 

It was loud inside. Melody was controlling the music, shaking her head when people requested stupid shit, which was often. Kurapika licked salt off the back of Leorio’s hand and then took a shot. 

Cute. 

“Machi, can I grab the Grey Goose?” Hisoka shouted. Pakunoda handed him a half-finished bottle, grinning sloppily, already. 

“She’s drunk,” Machi said, sighing as she did it. 

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” Hisoka noted with barely-concealed amusement. 

“Shizuku has a stomach ache. She’s lying down in one of the bedrooms.” The look on Machi’s face told Hisoka that this was maybe a common occurrence. 

“Did she drink too much?” 

“No, her stomach just hurts. And Pakunoda is…” Pakunoda licked up the shell of Machi’s ear. 

“I’m gonna take my bra off,” she shouted, reaching around her own back to do just that. Machi pulled her hands away. 

“Maybe not, babe.” Her voice was gentle. When she brought her attention back to Hisoka, the gentleness was gone. 

“This is what I’m dealing with tonight.”

“Tough deal,” Hisoka said, clicking his tongue in sympathy. 

“Whatever. Have sex with Illumi for me.” 

“Maybe not for you,” Hisoka replied, tucking the handle under his arm and giving her a salute. “But let me know if you want to join!” 

He returned to the balcony to see Illumi curled up on Feitan’s chair. 

“You took forever.” 

“I was talking to Machi.” 

Illumi grabbed the bottle and took a swig. 

“You should maybe slow down,” Hisoka said, frowning, “you never smoked before.” Illumi set the bottle down and ran his tongue over his teeth. Already, his cheeks were stained red, though that was probably from the cold. 

“I feel good,” he said. 

“I’m glad.” 

“You seem… terse.” 

“I’m just sober,” Hisoka said. 

Illumi turned in his chair so that he was facing Hisoka. Without warning, he cupped Hisoka’s chin, using his thumb to pull his jaw down, opening his mouth. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka began with a little incredulous snort. With his other hand, Illumi grabbed the handle and then tipped some of its contents down Hisoka’s throat. When he seemed satisfied, he let Hisoka’s chin go and set the bottle down. 

“Ugh,” Hisoka groaned. “That was a lot.” 

“Better?” 

“I’m cold,” Hisoka admitted. 

“Your circulation,” Illumi surmised. And with about as much warning as he had given Hisoka with the alcohol, Illumi reached across the little table that separated them and took Hisoka’s hands in his. 

“They’re super cold.” 

“Let’s go inside,” Hisoka said. Illumi brought Hisoka’s hands to his cheeks and pressed, squishing his face together. 

“My face is warm,” Illumi said. Hisoka laughed, pinching the skin of his cheekbones with his thumbs and pointer fingers. 

“It is. Okay, let’s go inside.” 

“Okay.” 

Much drunker and higher than before, they stumbled back into the party. 

* * *

Hisoka didn’t remember who had suggested it, just that as soon as someone had, Shizuku and Shalnark crowed in delight. 

“I’ll get a bottle! Everyone go upstairs!” 

In the circle, Hisoka could see Leorio and Kurapika, tangled together like twins in the womb; Machi, Pakunoda, and Shizuku, similarly tangled; Feitan and Phinks and Chrollo, sitting with varying degrees of laziness; and then there was him and Illumi. 

Somehow, Illumi had gone from sitting next to him, to sitting _on him,_ wedging himself between Hisoka’s thighs and leaning back, using him as a glorified backrest. Hisoka settled back onto his palms, holding up both his weight and Illumi’s. 

He would have complained if he wasn’t so inebriated. Illumi was much further gone than he was, rubbing gentle designs into Hisoka’s jeans with his thumb. 

Kurapika spun the bottle. It landed on Pakunoda. 

They kissed, awkwardly, for twenty seconds. Machi did an admirable job of counting, even though she was slurring every number. As soon as they pulled away, Pakunoda collapsed into Shizuku, giggling with pink cheeks. Kurapika kissed the back of Leorio’s hand in a subtle display of assurance. 

Feitan spun the bottle next. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking--” 

“Mwah,” Phinks said with a grin. “C’mere, big guy.” 

Phinks and Feitan engaged in probably the most entertaining, one-sidedly reluctant kiss Hisoka had ever seen. They pulled away five seconds too early, but no one was in their right minds to scold them. 

“Hisoka’s turn!” Machi crowed. Since Shizuku had recovered from her stomach ache, Machi was in much better--drunker--spirits. 

Hisoka had to maneuver Illumi’s limp body forwards so he could flick the bottle. It wobbled as it went, slowing down when it reached Chrollo, but still spinning sluggishly. It landed finally on Machi, who cursed. Hisoka grinned

“This is gonna be the gayest kiss ever,” Feitan said. Illumi seemed to find that very funny. Hisoka could feel his laughter against his body. He leaned forward and kissed Machi as gingerly as possible. He had never kissed a girl. Machi had probably never kissed a boy. 

Feitan hadn’t been far off. 

With no one to count, the kiss ended earlier than it should have as well. When Hisoka returned to his spot, letting Illumi lean back against him, he was keenly aware that Illumi’s grip on his thigh had returned, and it was much, much firmer. 

“Illumi, go,” Pakunoda said. 

Illumi spun the bottle with a drunken bat of his hand. Immediately after, he collapsed back into Hisoka’s chest, dazedly watching the bottle as it worked its way around the circle. It passed Feitan and Machi and Leorio and Kurapika before it landed decidedly on, of all people, Chrollo. 

Hisoka’s stomach contracted as he huffed out a dry laugh. Pakunoda and Shizuku were giggling to each other, batting at Machi who was trying to scoot their drinks away. 

Chrollo’s already alcohol-flushed face turned even redder.

“We don’t have to--”

The arm Hisoka had wound around Illumi’s waist squeezed a little tighter. Illumi drunkenly lifted his hand and beckoned Chrollo with the crook of a single finger, an uncharacteristically lazy grin on his face. 

The unexpected gesture garnered laughter and impressed murmurs. Chrollo leaned forward into the circle on all fours, eyes wide and glistening. Hisoka wanted to smack him. 

Someone wolf-whistled--Shalnark--as Illumi grabbed Chrollo by the collar of his shirt and surged forward to meet his lips. 

Illumi was an aggressive kisser. 

The strength of the kiss pushed Chrollo back into the center of the circle and bless him, he was doing his best to keep up but Illumi had a clear edge. 

Illumi’s drunkenness meant he was a little sloppy, too. 

Hisoka saw tongue and the white flash of teeth and tendons in the neck shifting and pulling in a dizzying montage.

It made him drunkenly wonder where Illumi had learned to kiss. You had to be a very good kisser to shut up someone as self-righteous as Chrollo. 

“Six...seven… eight… seven,” Machi slurred, prolonging the kiss even more. Illumi’s fingers skirted up Chrollo’s neck and tangled into his hair, tugging his head forward. 

Even Kurapika and Leorio separated themselves from each other long enough to watch. 

“Twenty?” Machi finished quietly. 

Finally, Illumi pulled away, lips pink and bitten. He flashed both rows of teeth in a cheeky, tequila-inspired smile and then collapsed back into Hisoka’s chest, eyes closing as the silence gave way to a wave of laughter and shocked screams. 

“ _Holy shit,_ ” Pakunoda murmured to Shizuku. 

Phinks asked the room if anyone had filmed that. To Hisoka’s growing dismay, someone said yes.

Illumi was hardly paying attention to the uproar he had caused. He had his fingers laced through Hisoka’s hand, which was stroking Illumi’s thigh absently. Hisoka was almost as drunk as he was, but unlike Illumi, he seemed to become quiet under the grip of alcohol. 

“This is going to make lacrosse season pretty weird,” Hisoka said with a snort. Despite the assertiveness of it from Illumi, the kiss, as a whole, was pretty sexless, which comforted Hisoka immensely.

Chrollo glared from across the room, cheeks still a brilliant pink. 

Someone--Feitan--held a joint up to Illumi’s mouth and Illumi leaned forward and took a long drag, which he held in his lungs for a few seconds more than necessary.

“Stop giving him shit,” Hisoka muttered, batting Feitan away.

“He’s fine,” Feitan said with a dismissive wave. 

“Are you even looking at him?” Hisoka asked, gesturing to Illumi’s limp body splayed in his lap. Illumi sank even further between his thighs and sighed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled suddenly. 

“For what?”

“I kissed… uh…” Illumi trailed off, brows furrowed in thought. 

“Chrollo, Illumi. You kissed Chrollo,” Hisoka said with a sigh. _How could he have forgotten?_

“Oh.” There was a pause, then, in a whisper: “He kisses like a bitch.” Pakunoda snorted loudly from a few feet away, muttering something to herself that sounded like, _I know._ Hisoka settled back onto his palms even more, eyeing the circle with reluctant amusement. 

Chrollo was wiping the spit off his mouth, expression sour. Phinks patted his shoulder in an attempt to be comforting, but the fact that his shoulders were shaking with amusement underlied the gesture. 

Somewhere, Melody fiddled with the playlist and a new song came on. It was a throbbing, sultry song. Immediately, Illumi perked up. 

“I love this song,” he said. Shalnark had gotten up too. His big green eyes were wide in delight. He grabbed Illumi by the wrist and started to tug him towards the stairs. 

“Let’s dance!” Illumi didn’t seem to be in the shape to say no, he just bobbed down the stairs, tripping after Shalnark towards the living room where the music was the loudest. 

“You gonna go after him?” Pakunoda asked, sidling up next to Hisoka. 

“He can dance by himself,” Hisoka said, smiling tightly. Pakunoda gave him a look. She was far more approachable after a few drinks, less uptight and protective. 

“You need to loosen up,” she decided. “Kurapika!” 

“What?” Kurapika demanded, glaring sideways at her. His hand was somewhere in Leorio’s shirt. Leorio himself looked dazedly delighted, cheeks pink, his stupid sunglasses resting on top of his head. 

“You have the gin,” Pakunoda said, pointing at the handle. Kurapika slid it over and then stood, dragging Leorio up with him. 

“Let’s go find Melody.” Hisoka watched them go down the stairs, holding hands, and tried to keep the jealousy out of his stare. Pakunoda scoffed. 

“Drink,” she said, shoving the gin into his hand. Hisoka thought back to the beginning of the night, of Illumi wrinkling his nose and saying very primly that gin was meant to be sipped in a cocktail, not taken like a shot. 

But then again, right now, Illumi was probably performing a strip-tease to about a third of their grade on nine shots of Fireball and half a cartridge of weed. 

“Come on!” Machi shouted from across the bedroom. She and Feitan laughed as Chrollo tried in vain to straighten his button-down shirt after his kiss with Illumi. His cheeks were red and he kept spluttering defensively. Hisoka sighed, plugged his nose, and took a few gulps of gin. 

“Happy?” He demanded a second after, making a face of disgust. Illumi had been right, definitely should have been sipped. Pakunoda shrugged. 

“You’re in a shitty mood. Go downstairs and see your boyfriend.” 

“He’s not--” 

The song changed again, and this time it was a sweltering trap beat. Hisoka recognized the song as something new and judging by the screams of delight and recognition by the people downstairs, it was popular, too. 

He slunk downstairs, hands shoved in his pockets, expecting the worst. 

He wasn’t that far off. 

As he rounded the stairwell, his footsteps slowed to a stop, and he paused on the second-to-last stair, heart thrumming wildly. 

Illumi was dancing on a table. 

He was rolling his hips obscenely and scream-singing the lyrics to the song as he went. A girl was on the table, too, and she kept grinding back onto his crotch, cheeks pink as well, her blonde hair tumbling down her shoulder like a waterfall. 

On the couch a few feet away, Leorio was trying to give Kurapika a drunken lap dance but he kept tripping over Kurapika’s feet. 

“Just sit, babe,” Kurapika said fondly. So he did. 

The two of them curled up on the couch and watched Illumi as he single handedly destroyed the carefully cultivated reputation he had been building for the past three years. 

_Illumi’s sort of just a rich, frigid bitch, there’s no way around it,_ Machi had told Hisoka months ago, right before the summer of last year. They had been watching him as he sat under a tree and annotated a novel for class. His hair kept falling in front of his face and the tree’s silhouette doused him in dappled yellow light. Machi had sighed a moment after. 

_Totally gorgeous, though._

Totally gorgeous. Illumi did look very good right now, his shirt riding up to reveal a toned, pale stomach, his cheeks colored red, hair swishing with his movement. 

The girl he was dancing with rocked back, pressing her back flush to Illumi’s front, whispering something into his ear, her fingers sliding through endless black hair. Melody watched from the kitchen and nibbled at her thumbnail nervously, as if expecting an uproar. 

“You gonna do something?” A slurred voice asked. Hisoka glanced to his left. Leorio was staring at him with a raised eyebrow. Kurapika had disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to speak to Melody. 

Leorio and Hisoka had never gotten along, never even really been close to friendly. Hisoka and Kurapika’s odd rivalry-turned-friendship in Chemistry class had alienated him from Leorio, who was less jealous and more-so rightfully suspicious of Hisoka. 

Kurapika _was_ intensely appealing, in a slightly similar way to Illumi, though that was where their similarities ended. 

“Sorry?” Hisoka said, not sorry at all. 

“I said, are you going to do something? Or are you just going to stare? He’s about one more shot from having sex with that girl on the table.” In the background, Hisoka heard Feitan’s cool, irritated voice drift in from upstairs. 

_“This happened last time, Phinks. I’m not sticking my hand down your throat again. Learn to hold your alcohol, for fuck’s sake.”_ Hisoka turned his attention back to Leorio. 

“Illumi and I aren’t--” 

“Take it from someone who’s been there, the yearning is cute but the actual relationship is way more fun.” Hisoka laughed. 

“I’m not yearning.” 

“You’re staring,” Leorio pointed out. Hisoka _was_ staring. Illumi was grinning now, flashing his perfect, straight white rich boy teeth. His gaze slid over the room until he saw Hisoka. The grin faded and his expression turned serious. His arm, which was hooked around the girl’s waist, went limp. 

Hisoka knew it was because he was drunk, but it was almost as if Melody had slowed down the music, thrown in some reverb, maybe dimmed the lights. 

Because suddenly, the room was not a room, but a corridor, with himself at one end, and Illumi at the other, staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Hisoka got the vague feeling that other people--because there were other people in the room, not just them--were staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Let’s go,” Hisoka said finally, voice hoarse, crossing the room gingerly. “You’re going to kill me tomorrow for letting you dance on a table.” He held out a hand for Illumi to grab, too drunk and crush-struck to panic at the possibility of Illumi not taking it. 

Illumi’s hand was slightly sticky. His slender fingers wrapped around Hisoka’s palm and he stumbled clumsily off the table. Someone from a corner of the room wolf-whistled as Hisoka tugged Illumi upstairs. There was a chorus of laughter and murmuring that followed. Then Melody switched the song again and the room relapsed into a pleasantly dense pool of sounds: drinks sloshing and jackets zipping and unzipping, slurred laughter and overexaggerated gagging after shots of lukewarm vodka.

Illumi couldn’t make it up the stairs. He melted into Hisoka, his chest over Hisoka’s back. 

“Don’t you have to get home?” Hisoka asked quietly. 

“What time izzit?” 

“Almost one,” Hisoka said, checking his phone. He felt Illumi stiffen against him. 

“Fuck,” he choked out, suddenly sounding much more sober. His eyes opened fully for the first time in a few hours. 

“I have to get home,” he said, trying and failing to go down the stairs. Hisoka caught him and hauled him back up. 

“Your jacket and your shoes and your phone are all upstairs. I’ll go with you on the train.” 

“‘Kay,” Illumi said groggily. He let Hisoka help him up the stairs and then shakily threw his jacket back on. Hisoka held open one of his boots so he could shove his foot inside. He didn’t miss the Prada logo at the back of the heel, stamped into the thick rubber sole. 

“Thanks,” Illumi muttered. The reminder of his curfew had seemed to sober him up a great deal. He stuck his hand in his jacket and produced a small credit card holder, swollen with a wad of cash. In the back were two credit cards, which Illumi checked to make sure they belonged to him. When he seemed satisfied, he looked expectantly at Hisoka. 

“Ready?” 

“Sure, hotshot,” Hisoka said with a grin. He led the way. They had to pass through the living room to leave, and every pair of eyes were on them, watching as they picked their way delicately through a minefield of plastic cups and sweatshirts. 

“Peace,” Leorio said, flashing two fingers. Machi and Pakunoda waved, supporting the weight of a peacefully dozing Shizuku. 

Chrollo watched Illumi go with a quiet sense of reverence, swiping his tongue over his lip in a pitiful attempt at recreating their earlier kiss. Feitan rolled his eyes and glanced at Phinks knowingly. It was entirely possible that Illumi had zero recollection of that kiss. 

Hisoka and Illumi made it out of the apartment building with little incident. 

“Do you smell that?” Hisoka asked as they stepped out into the street, sniffing the air like a hound dog. Illumi raised an eyebrow, face crumpling into an amused expression. 

“That’s what the city smells like,” he said with a shrug. He tried to kick a pebble off the sidewalk and missed, staggering a bit to the side. 

“No, it’s sweet,” Hisoka said. 

“Oh, honey roasted peanuts,” Illumi decided, pointing to a cart a block down. 

“I want those. Can you eat peanuts?” Hisoka asked. Illumi nodded dubiously. “You should have some, you need to sober up.” 

“My parents don’t want me having street food.” 

“You’ve never had them, then?” 

“Once,” Illumi said wistfully. 

“Come on,” Hisoka said, tugging him by the sleeve. To any passing stranger, they looked innocent enough, two pretty-faced teenage boys, one with shockingly bright hair, the other in an insane pair of black boots and a big black jacket, stumbling along the sidewalk towards a honey roasted peanut cart. 

Hisoka greeted the vendor with a slightly mischievous grin, an expression that promised a vague sense of trouble, if nothing actually malicious. The vendor handed over two waxed paper bags of peanuts, heaping and glittering with crystallized sugar, steaming slightly in the frigid air. Hisoka passed one to Illumi, who, in his big jacket, resembled a benevolent black blob with two legs sticking out of it, and then he reached into his pocket to pay. 

Illumi shook his head, a lovely mass of silky black hair shaking with it, and held out a crisp twenty. The two boys engaged in a brief staring contest, a battle of will, before Hisoka relented with a sigh and let Illumi pay. 

“Thanks,” Hisoka said, cheeks flushing under the blistering red light of a traffic stop. Illumi popped a peanut in his mouth and closed his eyes. 

“It’s good,” he said, slurring slightly. Hisoka held one up between well-manicured fingers. Gingerly, he pressed it to his tongue and then crunched down. 

“Oh.” 

“Good,” Illumi said again, mouth quirking at Hisoka’s expression of wonder. 

“What time’s your curfew?” Hisoka asked, taking off again towards the train station. Illumi skipped once to catch up and then maintained the same pace. They were lucky that they were both tall. 

“Two,” Illumi said gravely. “I don’t think we’ll make it, but I’m hoping they won’t notice.” 

Illumi used his newly-purchased metro card to get them through the turnstiles, then he wobbled after Hisoka down the grimy stairwell and onto the platform. 

“These are the nicer trains,” Hisoka said, watching as theirs dragged to a stop. A few people got out, but their numbers were sparse. It was late and even the city was turning into a ghost town. 

Hisoka had to pull Illumi through the train doors. The train was blessedly empty, so they stole a double row of seats, three on each side, facing each other. Hisoka collapsed on one side, propping his heels on the opposite seat, and waited for Illumi to do the same. 

Instead, he sat right next to Hisoka, thigh to thigh. His hair smelled sweet, like the expensive shampoo Hisoka knew he used. Illumi’s head lolled, hitting Hisoka’s shoulder and staying there. His hand curled loosely around the half-eaten bag of peanuts. 

Hisoka, having finished his own, picked absently at the ones leftover. They weren’t warm anymore but they were twice as sweet, thanks to the collection of sugar that had settled to the bottom of the bag. 

“Are you feeling sober?” Hisoka asked. 

“Not really,” Illumi said quietly. There was a pause. “I danced on a table.” His voice was soft and slightly horrified. Hisoka laughed, jostling Illumi’s head as his shoulder shook. 

“If it’s any consolation, it was super hot.” 

“It’s not,” Illumi said sourly. He fingered a hole in the sleeve of his sweater. 

“And I kissed Chrollo.” This time, Hisoka didn’t laugh. 

“You did.” 

“I ravaged him,” Illumi said, sounding dejected. Hisoka managed a grin. 

“It’s not hard, he’s such a virgin. But yeah, you definitely did.” Hisoka wanted to say more.

The train lurched forward, and a few cars down, Hisoka could see the conductor move row by row with a practiced efficiency. 

“It was pretty hot, too,” Hisoka got out, refusing to look in Illumi’s direction. Illumi tapped the toe of his monstrous boot against Hisoka’s sneakers. 

He mumbled something. 

“Hm?” 

“I wish the bottle landed on you,” Illumi said, louder this time. Hisoka couldn’t look at Illumi, he just couldn’t, so he looked out the window instead, watching as the dark landscape blurred. It was like they were travelling in time, through a warped tunnel of sparsely-starred sky and yellow-lit houses and trees tangled around chain link fencing. 

“Me too,” Hisoka said. Illumi seemed satisfied, relieved even, by this answer. He readjusted his head on Hisoka’s shoulder and sighed. 

“My head hurts. I’m going to sleep.” 

“I’ll wake you at our stop,” Hisoka promised. Illumi’s hand slipped from his own thigh and fell in the crook between his and Hisoka’s. Hisoka wanted to grab it and turn it over and press two fingers against the fluttering pulse he would find there. He wanted to lick the lingering traces of cologne that he had seen Illumi spray. 

He liked watching Illumi do that: spray one wrist and tap both of them together, and then tap both sides of his neck. It reminded Hisoka of something a beautiful woman in an old film would do, in a silk robe, barely tied together, with her hair in curlers and a beauty mark painted above her lip. 

“Tickets?” The conductor asked. Hisoka held out two. The conductor took them, punched them, and stuck the tickets in the backs of their seats. 

“Your stop is in about forty-five minutes.” Then he was gone. 

Forty-five minutes of Illumi’s head pressed to his shoulder. It wasn’t really enough.

* * *

Illumi stood outside the gates of the Zoldyck estate looking a bit like a spirit that would haunt the place. 

“Where are you going to go?” Illumi asked. 

“Back to the dorm?” Hisoka said with a shrug. Realization flitted across Illumi’s face. 

“You were meant to stay at the apartment, with Chrollo and Feitan and Machi and the others.” 

“It’s not a big deal.” 

“I’m sorry,” Illumi said miserably. He looked really, very miserable. “You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend alone in the dorms. I didn’t think--I shouldn’t have let you take me home.” Illumi was definitely still drunk. 

“Illumi, it’s okay,” Hisoka insisted. The taxi driver leaned his head out of the window impatiently. 

“Just stay with me,” Illumi said, bracing a hand on the gate. There was the larger one for cars and then a smaller one for people, with a yellow lantern set above it and a keypad. 

“Your parents won’t mind?” 

“My dad isn’t home,” Illumi said, and that was clearly all that needed to be said. Hisoka glanced back at the taxi and thought of his empty dorm room. 

“Okay,” he said finally. Illumi waved the taxi off and punched a long set of numbers into the keypad. The gate buzzed and Illumi shouldered his way in. 

As soon as Hisoka set foot on the property, he heard a low bark and the sound of heavy pawsteps on the ground. 

“Mike,” Illumi murmured, moments before a massive black shape nearly launched itself at Hisoka. 

“He’s our guard dog,” Illumi explained, patting the dog’s head. In the dark, he could just make out gleaming black fur and pointed ears and a docked tail. 

“He’s a Giant Schnauzer,” Illumi said proudly, as if Hisoka had any idea what that meant. Mike snuffled at Hisoka’s hand, paced in a circle, and then trotted off. 

“He does perimeters around the property at night sometimes,” Illumi said, watching the dog go, “but he usually sleeps with Killua, if he’s home.” Hisoka nodded dazedly. He wasn’t really paying attention to Illumi. He was in the Zoldyck Estate and he was starting to understand why people gave him that look when he said he was best friends with a Zoldyck. 

Even in the dark, the sheer size of the place shocked him. Only a few lights were on in the house, but they were enough to roughly demonstrate it’s dimensions. The home sprawled out between towering pine and oak trees like a medieval castle. Far to the left, Hisoka could hear the trickle of a large fountain and he could see smaller one-story structures dotting the landscape. 

“That’s where the staff live,” Illumi said, gesturing to a closer building, and those are the stables.” Hisoka saw a dimly lit barn, polished wood gleaming like it was wet. 

Mike bounded across the cobblestone driveway, licking briefly at Illumi’s hand before disappearing behind a row of manicured bushes. 

“You probably don’t want to stay in the guest house,” Illumi reasoned. Hisoka shook his head. Illumi led him through what was clearly a side door. 

“It’s past your curfew,” a deep voice said. Illumi flinched and then relaxed. 

“Hi, Gotoh. We missed the train so we had to wait at the station.” 

“We?” A very tall man in a suit appeared like a phantom from the inner bellows of the house. They were in some sort of mudroom. Little kid shoes were neatly lined on a shelf. A pair of teenage-boy-sized Crocs were set by the door. Hisoka really hoped those didn’t belong to Illumi. 

“This is Hisoka,” Illumi said carefully. “Hisoka, this is one of our butlers, Gotoh.” 

“Pleasure,” Gotoh said stiffly. Hisoka grinned and did a little wave. 

“Did your parents give you permission for Hisoka to stay?” 

“He helped me get home,” Illumi said, evading the question. Gotoh leaned in very close to Illumi’s face. They were similar in complexion, but that was where the similarities in appearance ended. Illumi was as soft and fine-featured as a fawn. Gotoh was stronger in the face, with an odd goatee and a daring widowspeak and eyes that were thin and colorless. 

“You’ve been drinking. You reek of tequila.” Illumi sneered but said nothing. Gotoh looked over Hisoka again, expression disapproving. 

“Go to bed, quietly. I’ll notify your mother about your guest in the morning.” Illumi sagged in relief. 

“And please remind me, Illumi. What time did you come home tonight?” It was a game they were playing, Hisoka realized with a jolt. Illumi’s mouth cracked into a smile. 

“Five minutes ‘til two.” 

“As prompt as ever. Go to bed.” Illumi grabbed Hisoka by the wrist and hauled him upstairs. 

“I thought he was going to narc on us,” Hisoka hissed. Illumi snorted. 

“I did, too.” 

Illumi’s room was at the end of a long, wide hallway. The door was heavy and it opened slowly on oiled hinges. 

“Your room’s huge,” Hisoka breathed. Illumi kicked off his boots. 

“Milluki’s is bigger, but I like the view from the windows. You can’t see now, but it overlooks the pond and the stables.” 

“Pond?” 

“We’ll catch frogs in the spring,” Illumi promised, disappearing into the bathroom. Hisoka heard the shower turn on. 

“Your bathroom’s huge, too,” Hisoka said. There was a large sink vanity with a marble countertop and a wide, backlit mirror. The shower was only a little smaller than Hisoka’s entire bathroom at Belmont. 

“You should prepare yourself to expect most things to be large here,” Illumi said, shrugging off his jacket. 

“Was that an innuendo?” Hisoka asked. 

“No,” Illumi said with a glare. “I’m going to shower first. I’ll be quick. You don’t mind sharing a bed, do you? It’s a king.” Hisoka didn’t think he had ever slept in a king bed before, not once in his life. 

“There are spare rooms, but I figured you would want--” 

“Yeah, no we can share,” Hisoka said quickly. Illumi bobbed his head. 

“Okay, leave.” 

* * *

Hisoka glanced at Illumi. The shower had done him some good. He looked pretty much sober. His eyes were tired and wet, hair still damp, but he looked healthy.

“Illumi,” he croaked, gaze fixed on the ceiling. 

“Hm?” 

“I don’t like that you kissed Chrollo.” He let it sit in the air for a moment, confident that Illumi wouldn’t interrupt him, then, he continued, “but what I really didn’t like was the _way_ that you kissed him.” 

“I wanted to impress you.” 

“You made me jealous,” Hisoka said. 

“I wanted you to think I was good at that sort of stuff.” 

“You’re not?” He heard Illumi rustle his hands through the bedding, frustrated. 

“Well how am I supposed to know that?” 

“I’ve been told I’m _very_ good at--” 

“I wanted to impress you,” Illumi said again, like the concept had just hit him. 

“Color me impressed,” Hisoka said dryly. 

“I really wish the bottle had landed on you,” Illumi whispered. Hisoka glanced over at him, but he wasn’t looking back. He had his head propped on his hand, gaze fixed to the window. 

“I wish I was dancing on that table with you.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Illumi groaned. 

“I think Phinks took a video.” 

“Gross.” 

“He’s probably going to jack off to it.” Hisoka thought about it. _He_ would probably jack off to that video, if he had it. 

“I feel like you misunderstand me,” Illumi said suddenly. 

“Hm?” 

“You think I’m… a siren, or something. _Why_ would Phinks jack off to a video of me being drunk on a table. Why was what I did tonight hot? Why--” 

“Fishing for compliments, Illu?” Hisoka heard Illumi sit up, and then he saw him glare. 

“You know that’s not what I’m doing.” 

“I used to think you were ugly,” Hisoka mused. Illumi glared from behind a curtain of silky hair. He looked vaguely skeletal underneath the cool white light of the moon. His thin wrists shifted delicately and the tendons caught Hisoka’s eye. He suddenly wanted to cannibalize them, bite until the tension snapped. 

“I used to think you had dead fish eyes,” Hisoka continued, laughing a little now. “During lacrosse season, I would always wonder what the girls on the sidelines saw in you.” Illumi smiled in a small way. 

“I dunno how it happened, but I started looking at you more, mostly to convince myself that I still thought you were ugly.” 

“Right.” 

“But then I would catch you reading by yourself in the library, or sipping coffee by yourself in the cafe, or doing something else by yourself. You were alone a lot, Illumi, you know, before me.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Illumi croaked. 

“I guess I just started looking at you more. Machi and I had a little crush on you last year. We made a promise to tag team you by the end of our senior year.” 

“You still have a few months left.” 

“You couldn’t handle us.” 

“I wouldn’t want to be able to.” Hisoka grinned at Illumi in the dark and found Illumi was looking back this time, an odd little smile on his face.

“I guess I just started looking at you more, Illumi. And then we’d play together and you were such a good fucking middie.” 

“I hate being a middie.” 

“You’re _good_ at it,” Hisoka said, shaking his head a little, as if still in disbelief. 

“I wanted to be an attacker,” Illumi said darkly. 

“I’m an attacker.” 

“I know. My dad was angry with me when he saw the starting lineup.”

“You’re good enough to be an attacker if you wanted.” 

“Coach Rich--” 

“Enough of that. I’m monologuing right now. You were such a good fucking middie, it was a huge turn-on, you know. Everytime you were on the field, I felt so confident, like you had everything in control. And after the games, you’d be drenched in sweat and you’d be sitting on the ground picking at grass as Coach gave us a talk, and your ponytail would keep sticking to the back of your neck. You were always so serious and quiet. You never laughed during warmups, but if we were playing a really good team, and you checked someone hard enough, you would--like--you would smile, mostly to yourself. And then we were in a class together and you had always been quiet on the team--quiet but you got the job done--but in class, you talked a lot. You corrected the other kids, and sometimes the teacher, and you were smart. I liked the words you used and when someone was trying to argue with you, you would always listen with your head sort of tilted, and it was just--I don’t know how to explain it, Illumi. I just started seeing your face and… yeah,” Hisoka finished lamely. 

“That was weird,” he added after a beat of silence.

“So you don’t think I’m ugly now?” Illumi asked, faintly amused. 

“You’re super beautiful,” Hisoka said sincerely, “and that’s coming from a ten.” He winked and he felt it in the mattress as Illumi laughed. 

“I never thought you were ugly,” Illumi added thoughtfully a moment later.   
“‘Cause I’m not.” 

“I thought your hair was horrendous, but I still do.” 

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Hisoka asked, smiling. 

“It’s too bright,” Illumi said, glancing at it. “You look like a cartoon.” 

“I might dye it black.” 

“What are you naturally?”

“Blonde, kind of. Red-blonde.” He said it with vague distaste, and Illumi could understand where he was coming from. He couldn’t see Hisoka in a color so tame, so innocent and young. 

“That’s why you freckle,” Illumi said. Hisoka snorted. 

“I hate the look of freckles. I used to wear long shirts in the summer to avoid it, but I’ve given up.” 

“I don’t freckle,” Illumi said regretfully. “I like them, the way they look.” He glanced sideways at Hisoka, as if trying to see his freckles in the dark. 

“It’s late,” Hisoka said suddenly. 

“Are you shy or something?” 

“No.” 

“You are.” Illumi reached out and pressed a cool palm to Hisoka’s face. Hisoka batted his hand away. 

“Your face is burning.” 

“Because I’m not a reptile like you, Illumi. Go to sleep.” 

“‘Kay.” 

“Goodnight,” Hisoka added. 

“Goodnight,” said Illumi.

* * *

Hisoka woke to heat on his face. He blinked groggily and sat up, eyes barely open. Sunlight was streaming in from a massive set of windows to the left of Illumi’s bed. Up against the window was a beautiful dark green loveseat. Illumi’s room was clearly the product of intentional interior design. There was little personality, little flair, though, to be fair, Illumi wasn’t really known for having a lot of flair. 

Still, the empty walls and the high ceilings made him want to throw up a few posters, stick polaroids to the walls with push pins. Anything, to make it seem less like a room from a luxury catalogue. 

Next to him, Illumi was passed out. He was on his stomach, hair splayed out on his pillow, face smushed into the bed. His breathing was soft and even. 

Careful not to disturb him, Hisoka shuffled into the bathroom, pissed, brushed his teeth with Illumi’s toothbrush, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. 

He felt vaguely nauseous and he certainly looked it. His skin was so sallow that the freckles he had gotten from summertime were visible again. His hair, still damp from the shower, stuck up at odd ends. His eyes were underlined in gray. 

He splashed some water on his face and collapsed back into bed. 

“ _Hnn_?” It was Illumi, still in the dregs of sleep.

“Morning,” Hisoka said. 

“Shh,” Illumi whispered in return, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes. 

He got up eventually, grumbling to himself and looking a bit green as he did it. Hisoka heard the faucet go, heard him brush his teeth, and then he was back in the room, standing at the side of the bed with a frown on his face. 

“You okay?” Hisoka asked bemusedly. Illumi ran his tongue over his teeth, contemplative. He looked handsome in the mornings--short pajama shorts and an old summer camp t-shirt that would have been small if it hadn’t been so stretched and over-washed. It was strange to think Illumi owned these kinds of clothes, but it was endearing all the same. 

He had put his hair up in the bathroom; the ponytail fell to one side of his head. He looked like a cheerleader, a mean one, who slept with their friends’ boyfriends and texted all the time. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Illumi croaked. There was a pause. He seemed to be thinking again. 

“Hey,” he said, abruptly, and as he said it, he moved around the bed to Hisoka’s side. A twitch to his hand was the only warning Hisoka got before Illumi was crawling on top of him, hands braced on either side of his head, gazes level, one knee between Hisoka’s thighs, the other just outside them. 

“Last night,” Illumi began, sort of accusatory, “you said you were jealous.” 

“Yeah,” Hisoka admitted, voice weak. 

“And I said I wished the bottle had landed on you.” 

“Twice,” Hisoka said, flashing a brief, white grin. 

“Yes, twice. So--I’m confused. Why didn’t we?” 

“Why didn’t we… what?” 

“Why didn’t we kiss?” Illumi’s gaze was strangely fearless, strangely determined. It reminded Hisoka of Mike, pacing the estate, tail up, nose twitching. 

“Uh,” Hisoka began, truly at a loss for words. His palms were starting to sweat. Illumi’s arms were trembling, and not, Hisoka suspected, from holding up his weight. 

“I don’t--I don’t know,” he said finally, wincing at how pathetic he sounded. Illumi frowned. 

“Well, I’m going to go ahead and do it.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka breathed. 

Their first kiss reminded Hisoka of Illumi checking him on the lacrosse field in the fall: breath gone, chest heaving, vision all but black. 

Except, it was much, much gentler. It wasn’t like Illumi’s kiss with Chrollo last night, not really. There was still an undercurrent of control that Illumi exuded, the same kind of control he wielded on his siblings and on the lacrosse field, but his mouth was softer and more forgiving than anything Hisoka had felt. 

They both tasted like the same toothpaste; the same hangover-induced headache wrapped around their temples. Illumi pulled away, just for a second, eyes sparkling like he was about to cry--he wasn’t, it just looked that way--then he dipped back down and inhaled through his nose, lips crashing into Hisoka’s, mouth opening, inviting teeth and tongue. 

The bed did not creak but it understandably groaned under the weight of two sizable teenage boys as they shifted. 

Illumi pulled Hisoka with him as he collapsed sideways onto the mattress. Hisoka dug a hand in Illumi’s hair, fingers sliding through strands of silk as Illumi pressed his whole front against Hisoka, brazen but also innocent, like an animal seeking warmth. 

Illumi pulled away for a second time, but it was only for a second, and then he was burying his face into Hisoka’s neck, kissing the skin there, biting the skin there, fingers tangling in Hisoka’s feathery red hair, scraping against his skull. 

Hisoka felt Illumi’s thigh wedge between his own, and then felt Illumi’s calf brush his foot. Against his neck, Illumi laughed, more an exasperated breath than a sound. 

“What?” Hisoka asked. 

“Your fucking feet are cold,” Illumi said. Hisoka laughed, too. He trapped Illumi’s ankle between his feet and then pulled Illumi’s head back by his hair, pressing tiny, fervent kisses to his cheeks, his temples, the corners of his upturned mouth, his eyelids. 

“Stop,” Illumi mumbled, not really meaning it. 

“No.”

Hisoka did eventually stop, flopping onto his back with a sigh and glancing giddily over at Illumi every once in a while. He checked his phone--not even nine yet, and then rolled over onto his stomach, pillowing his head on Illumi’s bicep. 

“I’m sleeping. Good makeout.” Illumi snorted a laugh, hand coming up to thread through Hisoka’s hair. 

“Good makeout,” he agreed, his voice sounding warm and faraway. 

Hisoka dug one cold foot under Illumi’s calf and kept it there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you guys enjoyed :D i probably won't be updating quite as quickly as I have been recently. im in my first year of uni so im pretty busy! 
> 
> as always, comments are my favorite thing in the world. even if i don't respond, i read every single one. 
> 
> peace!
> 
> ALSO: I just made a twitter account bc i want to interact w people, follow me!! https://twitter.com/ohofcourses


	8. Ski Weekend (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenage boys ~discover themselves sexually~

“Your butlers have tried to come in like ten times already.” 

Hisoka’s voice was dry, sort of warm, and purposely loud enough that Illumi woke up as soon as he heard it. 

“Hm?” 

“Your butlers keep trying to come in, Illumi.” 

“Just tell them to go away.” Illumi had a lovely morning voice, so different from his usual smooth, flat tone. 

“I have been but they keep coming back.” 

And as if right on cue, there was a firm knock on the door. 

“Illumi, it’s Gotoh. Are you and your guest--” 

“Give me a minute,” Illumi said, performing a satisfying-looking full-body stretch and then rolling out of bed with a grunt. He stumbled and then steadied himself, regarding the door with bleary irritation. Unbeknownst to him, the sunlight streaming in from the french doors illuminated the little halo of frizz around his head, turning it to gold. 

“The chef is understaffed today. He wanted to know if he should begin preparing lunch or if he should wait for you to come down and have breakfast.” 

“We can make our own breakfast,” Illumi said. He had disappeared into his closet; Hisoka could hear the ruffling as he went through his clothes, looking, probably, for a suitable top. 

“May I come in?” Gotoh asked. 

“Don’t come in,” came Illumi’s voice from the closet. He finally re-emerged, properly clothed and then wrenched the door open. 

“For Christ’s sake, Gotoh.” 

“Your mother doesn’t want you ruining your sleep schedule--hello, Hisoka, I hope you slept well.” Gotoh’s shrewd gaze lingered on the darkening bruises on Hisoka’s collarbone, but if he was offended, he didn’t let on. 

“I slept wonderfully.” 

“Excellent. Why don’t you and Illumi join us downstairs for breakfast? Killua and his guest are there now. And Milluki, I believe.” 

“Gon,” Hisoka surmised about the guest. Illumi made a sighing sound that was blatantly derisive. 

“We’ll be down in a minute, go away.” 

“Pleasant as ever, Illumi,” Gotoh said evenly. Illumi braced both hands against the butler’s shoulders and--more gently than expected--pushed Gotoh out of the threshold and down the hall. 

“Leave us alone,” Hisoka heard Illumi hiss. Gotoh laughed, a very odd, choking sound. 

“You might want to lend your guest a more conservative shirt, just--” 

“ _Gotoh!”_

Illumi returned a minute later, his feathers looking a bit ruffled. 

“My closet’s open. Borrow whatever,” he said. His gaze, like Gotoh’s lingered briefly on Hisoka’s neck, tracing the enthusiastic purple marks and then looking away when he became too embarrassed. 

“Okay,” Hisoka said serenely. He did indeed need to wear something that covered up the neck area, especially if Killua, Gon, and Milluki would be downstairs. He hadn’t realized that Illumi’s… attention had left marks. It hadn’t even hurt. 

“Can I borrow anything?” Hisoka asked. Illumi’s closet, unsurprisingly, was gorgeous--lots of black but gorgeous. The walls on either side were lined with hanging racks and at the end, there was a wall of drawers and a multi-level built-in shoe rack. Hisoka could see rich, black shearling hanging to one side, and could see the dizzying logo pattern of a designer brand--things he had never seen Illumi wear. 

“Grab anything,” Illumi said faintly. 

His casual clothing was conveniently concentrated in one corner, and going by the looks of it, it was the most-accessed place of his closet. There was a wicker basket tucked into an open shelf that was filled with sweatshirts. 

Unthinking, Hisoka grabbed one from the top. He recognized it, vaguely, as an old lacrosse sweatshirt he had seen Illumi wear. It was too big for him, but it would fit okay on Hisoka, who was broader. 

He shrugged it on and re-entered the bedroom. 

Illumi, who was back in bed, cross-legged, staring at his phone, lifted his head to look Hisoka over. 

His eyes caught on the sweatshirt and he froze. Hisoka looked down at himself and fingered the hem. 

“Oh, is this one of those really expensive sweatshirts that's, like, made to look vintage? Do rich people do that? Buy old-looking clothes on purpose for lots of money? I can wear something else if you--” 

“No, you can wear it,” Illumi said. He was perched at the very edge of his bed, a hand resting on his bedside table. 

“You seem weirded out.” Illumi’s mouth quirked in a vaguely exasperated smile.

“It’s my dad’s.” 

“Oh.” Hisoka closed the closet door with his heel. His gaze was piercing, mouth uncharacteristically turned down at the edges. “I’m going to wear it, if that’s okay.” 

“Okay.” Looking for a distraction, anything to avoid eye-contact with Hisoka, Illumi slid open his bedside table drawer and idly perused it. There were old headphones and a bunch of pens that probably didn’t work and-- 

Illumi’s eyes widened comically and then turned harsh. 

“Oh, you’re fucking kidding me,” he snarled. Without another word, he stormed out of the bedroom. 

Hisoka followed, vaguely cheerful and unsure of what was actually going on. 

“ _KILLUA!_ ” Illumi screamed as he ran down the stairs. He was moving so quickly through the house that Hisoka hardly had the time to marvel at it. And there was lots to marvel at. 

The ceilings were as high as a cathedral, and all the furniture looked old and elegant. The wood floors were in a herringbone pattern, slightly scuffed, and covered in certain spots with thick, luxurious Persian rugs. 

If Hisoka didn’t know any better, he would say no children lived here. It was as sterile and beautiful as the centerfold in a magazine. Unsurprising, considering the Zoldyck family, but strange to witness all the same. 

Illumi’s tirade took them into the kitchen, which included a breakfast nook and two--yes, two--kitchen islands, one of which was occupied by Killua, Gon, and Milluki. They sat on bar stools, picking amicably at each other’s plates, plates which were heaped with steaming bacon and golden silver-dollar pancakes and fluffy yellow scrambled eggs. Hisoka’s stomach growled. 

“ _Hisoka_?” Killua demanded, only to be immediately silenced by a pale, calloused finger pointing at his face. 

“Just because your _stupid fucking friend_ is here, doesn’t mean you can go through my stuff--” Gon’s eyes went wide.

“We didn’t--” 

“Where the fuck is it?” Illumi grabbed Killua by his shirt and dragged him off the kitchen stool. Hisoka looked to Milluki, to see if he was going to intervene, but Milluki was laughing, snorting out little giggles behind his hand. 

“Hey,” Gon began. “Let go of him!” 

Hisoka thought that was kind of cute, in a pathetic way. 

Illumi grabbed Killua under his armpits, like a father lifting his child at the beach, and then shook him, violently. 

“Give it to me now!” 

“ _It was Milluki!”_ Killua screeched.

The room fell silent. Killua’s feet dangled uselessly in the air. 

Illumi put him down slowly, chest heaving, eyes alight. He glared down at Killua, who was grinning sheepishly. 

“You guys read it, too,” Milluki hissed at Gon and his own younger brother. He wasn’t laughing anymore. His face was pale and he was already starting to slide off the stool, preemptively preparing himself for no doubt another display of violence from Illumi. 

“You’re the one who took it from his room,” Gon pointed out, standing protectively in front of Killua, who didn’t seem harmed at all, just a little ruffled. Hisoka took up a stool at the kitchen island and ate some of the bacon off Killua’s plate. 

“You went into my room?” Illumi growled. Milluki shrank like a nighttime flower. 

“It was for literally _two seconds_ \--” 

“Give it to me,” Illumi demanded. Milluki scooted towards the door leading out of the kitchen. 

“I’m just going to--” He ran. Milluki was surprisingly quick on his feet, but, evidently, nowhere near quick enough. 

Hisoka and Gon and Killua trotted behind, watching as Illumi tackled his younger brother in the living room and pressed him face-down on the couch cushions. 

“ _I’ll kill you!”_

 _“_ We didn’t read all of it! Please--” Milluki was cut off by his own squeal. 

“Give it back, I’ll fucking kill you!” Before Milluki could answer, his head was being shoved back against the couch. Killua giggled something into Gon’s ear, and Gon laughed, a high, lovely sound. 

Milluki flailed and Illumi fisted a hand in his hair. 

“I’m going to break all your stupid computers, all of them!” 

Hisoka adjusted himself in Illumi’s pajama pants as subtly as possible. It was oddly arousing to see Illumi holding someone face-down and choking them until they cried. 

No one could blame him for being a little affected by it. 

He glanced sideways to see if either Killua or Gon had noticed, but they were staring wide-eyed at Illumi and Milluki. Thankfully. 

_“Mother! Mother! Please! Illumi--mercy!”_

“Well,” a prim female voice called from the top of the stairs. “It’s good to see you’ve toned it down for our guests, dear.” 

Kikyo Zoldyck was in her pajamas, but she still seemed overly dressed, her hair swept up in a bun, lips thin and pink. 

Slowly, like a dog releasing a beloved toy, Illumi let go of Milluki, who scrambled away from his older brother, scowling at him, red-faced, from a safer distance. 

“Milluki, please respect your brother’s privacy. Illumi, stop behaving like a child. _Hisoka_ , it’s lovely to see you, dear.” 

Hisoka blinked. 

“And you, Mrs. Zoldyck.” 

“I would apologize for Illumi’s neurotic behavior but I’m sure you’re used to it by now.” 

Hisoka laughed, unsure of what else to do, but it struck him as he glanced at Kikyo’s cold, glinting eyes that she wasn’t joking. 

“Have you two had breakfast?” She asked. Illumi shook his head. 

“Have the chef make you something substantial. You both look a little peaky.”

“Yes, mother.” 

“And Hisoka, I have to apologize for my rudeness, but I have lots to do today--” Killua whispered something to Milluki and then they both snorted in amusement. 

Kikyo glared. 

“I have lots to do today,” she said again, voice tighter, “so I’ll be scarce.” 

“Of course. I’ll be leaving soon. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” 

“Nonsense,” she said, waving her hand, “Stay the rest of the weekend. Silva is in Sweden visiting the little ones so the house has plenty of room.” Hisoka found that funny, the implication that if Silva had been home, their massive estate wouldn’t have had room.

“Thank you,” he said simply, giving her his most charming smile. Kikyo did a fanciful wave and called to Gotoh: “Gotoh, have the chef bring me my usual for lunch!” And then she was gone. 

“I’ll come into your room at night and violate your figurines,” Illumi whispered to Milluki as soon as Kikyo was out of earshot. Killua cackled, his fingers digging into Gon’s hair fondly. 

“I’ll give you your fucking journal back, relax!” Milluki snapped back, rubbing his shoulder reproachfully. 

Hisoka’s eyes narrowed in delight. 

“You keep a journal?” Hisoka wanted to know what could possibly be inside of it that would cause such a reaction from him. 

“Barely,” Illumi said evasively.

Probably smut, going by the pink of Illumi’s cheeks. 

“It was very sweet,” Gon said innocently, reaching out to pat Illumi on the shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. “And it looks like it’s all working out now!” He glanced sideways at Hisoka in a telegraphed gesture. Maybe it was less smut, then, less smut and more yearning prose. 

“Don’t touch me,” Illumi hissed. Gon withdrew his hand and Killua took it in his own without thinking. Their small hands clasped together, finger-bitten nails overlapping into a cage.

“We’re going to go outside,” Killua said, giving his eldest brother a dark look. 

“Bye Hisoka!” Gon called as they left. 

“Buh-bye,” Hisoka replied. Milluki shivered like a very small dog under Illumi’s pinched frown. 

“Go get it, now.” 

“Okay,” he whispered, scrambling up the stairs to where his room presumably was. 

“Lots of ruckus.” Gotoh’s voice came filtering in from a door on the left. He peered into the kitchen with a raised eyebrow. 

Illumi folded his arms over his chest and plopped down at the breakfast nook. Thick strands of black hair had fallen from his ponytail and now grazed at his cheeks and throat.

“Illumi, I’m hungry,” Hisoka chimed in. Illumi and Gotoh both looked at him. 

“We’ll make something, then,” Illumi said, just as Gotoh said, “What would you like the chef to prepare?” 

“No,” Illumi said after, “It’s fine, Gotoh. We can make something.” 

“Illumi, it’s not a trouble--”

“We want to,” Hisoka added brightly. 

“Fine,” Gotoh conceded. “Let the chef know if you need help.” He slipped out through a side door, footsteps fading in the distance. 

“Where is this chef you keep talking about.” 

“He’s in the chef’s kitchen,” Illumi said, waving a hand towards the door Gotoh left through. 

“Oh, so there are two kitchens,” Hisoka said faintly. Illumi gave him a look of trepidation. 

“Is that bad?” 

“Nope.” 

Okay.” Illumi filled up two glasses of water and slid one across the island to Hisoka. He had been so thirsty and he hadn’t even realized it. 

Milluki came down the stairs clutching a journal to his chest. It was small, made of black leather, and the pages were thick and dog-eared, a sign of repeated use. Illumi snatched it and tucked it under his arm. 

“So,” Hisoka said cheerily, “how often does your dad visit Kalluto and Alluka?” Milluki and Illumi shared a glance. 

“I don’t know why she lies,” Milluki grumbled. “ _Silva is in Sweden visiting the children._ No, he fucking isn’t. He’s working.” 

“Quiet,” Illumi scolded, pulling a copper pan off the overhead rack hanging above the first island. 

“Not very often. He’s busy.” The answer was terse from Illumi. Hisoka understood not to press. 

“Hisoka, do you like pancakes?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” Illumi disappeared into a small room leading off the kitchen, which Hisoka recognized as a very large pantry. He returned with his arms full: flour and sugar and baking powder and salt. 

“Milluki, get the milk.” 

“ _Please_ ,” Milluki added resentfully, opening their double-wide fridge and pulling out a carton of milk. 

Illumi got a bowl from a cupboard and a whisk from a drawer and then stared at his assortment of supplies. 

“Can I have some?” Milluki asked. 

“Fine.” 

“Is it hard to make?” Hisoka asked, peering into the empty bowl. 

“No,” Illumi said, fetching a carton of eggs from the fridge as well. He cracked three, one-handed, into a small bow and set them off to the side. Hisoka pushed himself up onto the counter and watched idly. 

Illumi was oddly skilled in the kitchen. There was a self-assuredness to his movements that spoke of years of experience. He didn’t measure for the pancakes, just took pinches from the baking powder and the salt, and poured carefully when it came time for flour and sugar. 

Sunlight streamed in from the windows wrapping around the kitchen nook, warming Hisoka’s back until it was almost searing. Still, he sat and watched, unable to take his eyes of Illumi as he whisked in eggs and milk, tasting the batter with the tip of his pinky. 

Hisoka wanted to kiss him. 

Illumi’s throat worked and he pursed his lips in thought. 

“This isn’t too salty, is it?” Illumi dipped his ring finger into the batter this time and held it up to Hisoka, eyes wide and expectant. 

Hisoka licked the batter off his finger in a ginger way, keenly aware of Milluki’s gaze. 

“It’s good.” 

“I thought so, too.” 

Hisoka offered to help with pouring the pancakes in the pan. It seemed like the kind of the thing that would be hard to screw up. Illumi gave him a large silver spoon to scoop the batter with and he got to dolloping it on the pan surface, shaking it to smoothen out the batter and waiting until bubbles formed on the surface. 

He could hear Milluki texting--his ringer was on, but the sound wasn’t irritating. Nothing, really, could irritate Hisoka right now. 

Illumi had taken his spot on the counter, watching Hisoka much like a babysitter. He, like Hisoka, looked tired from last night, eyes gray around the edges, his cheeks and nose slightly ruddy, a combination of being young and a little unwell. He had his arms propped on the edge of the counter, the heels of his palms turned outward. 

Hisoka traced the outlines of the veins exposed in his pale forearms, all the way up to the shallow depression that was the crook of his elbow. The veins became lost at around mid-bicep, wrapping around his arm and disappearing under the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

“Hisoka.” 

He leaned forward on the counter and his hair shifted and slid like swaths of silk. 

“Hisoka, you should flip them, now.” 

Hisoka blinked, ripped from some lovely dream, and then clumsily flipped the pancakes. 

“They look too brown,” Illumi said. 

“Shut up,” Hisoka replied. 

Milluki took his pancakes and scuttled back up the stairs to his room, leaving Hisoka and Illumi to eat alone at the kitchen nook, ripping apart fluffy pancakes with their fingers and making stuttered eye-contact whenever they were brave enough to.

* * *

“Hisoka,” Illumi said, pausing at the threshold of his bedroom. He had his phone out and his mouth was twisted in an expression that was clearly inherited from his mother.

“Hm?” 

“Did you post a video of me _sleeping_ last night on your story?”

“You looked funny.” 

“Take it down,” Illumi snapped, rounding on him. Hisoka raised both eyebrows. 

“Uh, no.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“That’s a stupid reason, take it down.” Illumi tried to snatch Hisoka’s phone out of his hand, but he danced out of the way, laughing lightly. 

“Illumi, I don’t give a shit.” 

“I’ll--”

“I’m not Killua, you can’t bully me,” Hisoka said triumphantly. Illumi’s brows knitted together. 

“I don’t bully him.” 

“You do.” 

“Give me your phone.” And before Hisoka could respond, he was being tackled onto the bed and a hand was shoving itself into the pocket of his sweats. Illumi’s other hand fisted in his hair and shook his head back and forth.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow.” 

“Give me your phone!” 

“You’re crazy!” Hisoka shouted, wrapping long fingers around Illumi’s wrist and wrenching his hand away from his hair. 

“You’re actually crazy, Illumi!” Illumi shoved Hisoka face down onto the mattress. 

“Delete it!” 

“No!” Illumi wrenched Hisoka’s shoulder around, so that he was on his back, and then squeezed his head between his own two palms. 

Hisoka smiled as much as he could, cheeks squished. 

“What?” 

“Delete it.” 

“Aw, but you look so cute.” 

“I don’t,” Illumi said, squeezing harder. “You just like making me uncomfortable.” 

“Obviously.” 

Illumi’s hands, which were braced on Hisoka’s temples, slid down, squeezing instead at his cheeks, forcing his lips into a pout. 

He kissed them, chaste and dry, and then pulled away. Hisoka’s brows were nearly at his hairline, and the little duck-shape of his lips contorted into a half-smile. 

“ _You’re obsessed with me_ ,” Hisoka cooed. Illumi’s nose wrinkled. 

“Whatever.” He eased himself up onto his knees, taking his weight off Hisoka’s stomach. At that, Hisoka let out a long breath. 

“You’re heavy,” he said, gazing up at Illumi with mirth. 

Boyishly, Illumi lifted his shirt and flexed his abs. 

Hisoka laughed. 

“I’m tuckered out,” he added after a moment, spreading out onto Illumi’s bed and closing his eyes. He felt Illumi sit against him, thigh pressed to his side. 

“You could stay here, all weekend, you know.” 

“Mhm,” Hisoka hummed. 

“Or we could go back to the city, I suppose.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Do you have a preference?” 

“Nhm.” 

“Do you want to maybe speak to me with your fucking words?” Hisoka slowly cracked open an eye. 

“It’s up to you, Illu. I don’t care.” 

“Well, I don’t want to do something you don’t want to do.” 

“I’m easy.” 

“Yeah.” 

Hisoka jabbed him lazily. 

“I’ll ask Machi what the deal is with tonight,” Hisoka said finally. “See if we could go back. I’m tired, but I don’t mind going out again.” 

“Okay.” 

Hisoka did not text Machi. They seemed to decide, without really speaking about it, that they were to stay at the Zoldyck’s. 

Gon and Killua returned from their outing later in the evening covered in mud. Illumi screamed at them for tracking footprints on the carpet. Milluki made all the children watch a movie that no one seemed to get. 

Hisoka liked the sex scene. 

And when the movie finally ended, Illumi and Hisoka crept down to the kitchen and cracked open the freezer. 

“Woah.” Hisoka had never seen so full a freezer in his life.

“Do you want ice cream?” Illumi asked, peering into the depths of one of the drawers and gingerly knocking some pints around to read their labels. 

“Sure.” 

Illumi noticed the way Hisoka’s eyes lingered on the cotton candy ice flavor and grabbed it without a word, holding it in the crook of his armpit and grabbing two spoons from a nearby drawer. 

“Didn’t think you liked this stuff,” Hisoka mused, squinting in the dark to read the ingredients label.  
“I do,” Illumi lied. 

They knocked out a pint of ice cream between the two of them and called it dinner. 

* * *

The next morning, Hisoka woke before Illumi again. He rolled onto his back, blinking blearily at the ceiling. There was a chandelier there--a chandelier in his bedroom, how frivolous. 

Beside him, Illumi slumbered on, but there was a pinch to his face, a coil of tension that told Hisoka he would be waking up soon. The bun he had done last night was almost fully undone, trailing in whisps down his bare back. 

Illumi groaned in his sleep, a teenage sound, and his whole torso expanded and then collapsed again. 

“Morning,” Hisoka whispered. A single black eye cracked open, swimming with exhaustion. 

His sleep shorts had ridden up in the night, hiking all the way up to the crease of his hip. Hisoka could see the outline of his erection, a symptom of waking up, through his shorts. 

In a sleep-muddled haze, Illumi grinded himself down on the mattress, sighing through his nose, eyes fluttering beneath his lids. 

Hisoka scooted closer until he was lying on his side, facing Illumi, head propped up on his palm like a spectator at the beach. 

“Illumi, wake up, darling.” Illumi’s hips rolled again and he made a high, breathy sound. Hisoka saw one arm, which was folded above his head, slide downwards, looking, he could tell, to relieve some pressure. 

Hisoka, very gently, caught his wrist and returned it to where it had been. 

The same black eye opened, and going by the way it squished, Hisoka was being given a glare. 

“No hands,” he said, smiling evilly. To encourage him along, Hisoka pressed his hand against the back of his upper thigh, just under his ass, and pressed his hips into the mattress. 

Illumi whimpered, eyes closing again. 

There was a tiny wet spot on his boxers, and Hisoka could see just the head of his cock peeking out from the top of the waistband, sliding against his stomach in painfully slow jerks. 

“ _Hisoka_ ,” Illumi said. His face was still buried in the pillow, eyes screwed shut, nose scrunched, making little wrinkles along its bridge, like a snarling dog. 

“Keep going,” Hisoka replied, pressing an unfairly kind kiss to his ear. 

Illumi hadn’t even meant to do this, hadn’t even realized he had been doing it until Hisoka had wrapped a hand around his wrist and clucked at him like a schoolteacher. 

_No hands,_ he had said. 

Illumi needed _someone’s_ hands. The friction from the mattress and his boxers was vaguely satisfying, but it was also, he knew, not enough. 

And Hisoka was right there, watching with a wicked smile on his face, hand digging into the meat of his thigh, forcing his hips to roll at a cadence a little too fast for his liking. 

He felt that hand slide upward, suddenly, lingering briefly on his ass before gliding along his back and settling into his hair. 

He was pulled away from the pillow by a grip near his scalp and Hisoka met him with a warm, sleepy kiss. 

“Keep going,” Hisoka whispered against his mouth. 

“Can you just--” 

“Keep,” Hisoka said again, a laugh in his voice. “Going.” Illumi growled and Hisoka couldn’t quite tell how much of it was genuine frustration. As an olive branch, he slid his hand under Illumi’s stomach until his hand was pressed against Illumi’s cock. 

He heard Illumi gasp and then felt him grind down again, hard, to the point that it had to be uncomfortable. But, there was enough precum that the friction was minimal--it was hot and wet and Hisoka could feel himself strain against his borrowed pajama pants. 

“Can I--” Illumi was cut off by his own moan.

“Can you what?” 

“ _Can I come?”_ Illumi hissed. 

Hisoka pressed his cheek to Illumi’s and sighed. 

“Do you want to?” 

Illumi made an exasperated sound. 

“What kind of question is--” He broke off with a cry as Hisoka finally closed his hand around his length and pulled upwards in a calm, practiced motion. 

“Close?” 

Illumi gave a short, rapid nod, grinding down onto the mattress with even more fervor. 

“ _Hisoka_ ,” he mumbled. 

“Hi,” Hisoka said, teeth flashing just an inch from Illumi’s own mouth. They kissed, sloppily, and they were still kissing when Illumi finally spilled into Hisoka’s hand and onto his own sheets with a quiet gasp. 

“Good morning,” Hisoka purred. 

“Shut up,” Illumi said with a heavy sigh, rolling onto his stomach and away from the mess of his own cum. 

Hisoka kissed at his temple again and Illumi begrudgingly rolled once more until he was half on top of Hisoka, face buried in his neck. 

He felt a heavy hand stroke up his spine. 

“We’ll have to change the sheets,” Hisoka mused. 

“Butlers,” Illumi said. 

“They won’t be suspicious?” 

“They don’t care.” 

“Okay.” 

Hisoka pulled the hair out from around Illumi’s neck. 

“We should probably go down for breakfast,” he said at the sound of Illumi’s stomach growling. 

“We’ll have it brought up.” Illumi rose up and sat back on his haunches, readjusting his boxers slightly gingerly. His stomach was still expanding and contracting a little faster than normal from his orgasm, and his chest was flushed pink all the way across. 

Illumi was very thin, Hisoka realized. Maybe it was the way he was sitting, or the fact that he hadn’t eaten yet, but nearly every rib was visible. He looked like one of those very skinny, very fast dogs who posed in 18th-century paintings alongside men on horses. 

He was strong, certainly, but slenderer than expected. 

“Have you been eating well?” Hisoka asked. He was a bit embarrassed by the question, the attentiveness of it, but the look on Illumi’s face--threatened and confused and a little frightened--told him he had been right to ask it. 

“Yeah, why?” And he looked down at himself and frowned. “Do I look--” 

“You look good,” Hisoka assured him quickly. “I was just… wondering.” 

“I don’t eat well in the winters,” Illumi said, and it sounded evasive, but Hisoka wasn’t about to press. Not yet. 

“It’s no big deal,” Hisoka said with a yawn. He stood from the bed, at last, and stretched out both legs. 

“Hey, let’s--” Illumi was pinching at the skin of his stomach, brows furrowed. 

“Quit it,” Hisoka said, a dash of amusement in his voice. Illumi was sitting on his heels, thighs spread, his boxers crumpled half-way up his hip. 

“What?” Illumi asked. 

“I didn’t ask that because you looked… it was nothing. I didn’t mean to make you think. I was just asking you a question, stop worrying.” 

“Okay.” 

“Can you have breakfast brought up? I’m going to take a shower.” 

“Okay.” 

“You’re handsome, Illumi.” 

“Okay.” Hisoka grabbed Illumi by the chin, pulling his head up to his own, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Wanna shower with me? You’re sort of covered in your own--” 

“Yeah,” Illumi breathed. 

“Yeah?” Illumi nodded this time, following Hisoka with a minor stumble in his step all the way to the bathroom. 

“Hold on,” Illumi said. He stopped by his bed and pushed the button on his intercom--he had an intercom in his room. 

“Can we have two breakfasts brought up?” 

“Yes, sir,” a butler said immediately. 

“Coffee for me and--Hisoka, what do you want?” 

“Is it black coffee?” 

“It can be whatever you want. They can grab something from Starbucks, too.” Hisoka’s eyes widened. 

“Really?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Okay, I want a Starbucks drink.” 

“Order on the intercom. I’m turning on the water.” Illumi left Hisoka by the intercom and flipped on the shower. He waited a few seconds, dipped his foot under the spray, and then slipped in fully. 

In the distance, he could hear Hisoka talking animatedly to one of the butlers. 

_Well, there’s a difference between the iced pumpkin spice latte and the pumpkin cream cold brew._

_Hm, let’s get both and I’ll make Illumi drink the one I don’t like._

_Yes, it was lovely speaking to you!_

Illumi sank onto the cold marble bench built into his shower and adjusted the showerhead until the spray was hitting him directly. He could hear Hisoka in the bedroom taking off his clothes. He was humming, some dumb song that Illumi had heard many times on the radio. He didn’t know most of the words, so he switched from lyrics to enthusiastic humming every so often. 

He had a nice voice. 

Illumi closed his eyes and let the water soak him to the scalp.

* * *

“Illumi!” Kikyo had a terrible voice. Illumi seemed to have a pavlovian response to it. Whenever she spoke, he sat totally upright, like he had just been injected with adrenaline. 

“Yes, mother?” 

“I am going to an--well, I guess--no, I’m going to an event,” and she certainly looked it. Her dress was long and black and had mutton sleeves. A smart fur jacket was folded over her arm. 

“Okay.” 

“Killua is going to his little friend’s house.” 

“Okay.” 

“It’s you and Milluki. Try--and I mean really try, Illumi--to get him out of that bedroom of his--don’t give me that look, do not. Hisoka, can you promise me?” 

“Scout’s honor.” Hisoka did a mocking salute. 

“Illumi, you could learn from your friend here. Anyway, boys, try to get Milluki out of his room, even if it’s just to the kitchen for dinner. I would take anything at this point.”

“Okay,” Illumi said dully. 

“Okay!” Kikyo kissed Illumi’s cheek, then Hisoka’s, and then called over the stairs: “Bye, Milluki! Try to go outside while I’m gone!” 

And then she was darting out of the house into a waiting car. 

“Is that an Aston Martin?” Hisoka asked incredulously as the car peeled away from the driveway. Illumi peered through the open front door. 

“Dunno. Is that a type of car?” 

“Yes,” Hisoka said weakly. 

“Oh, then probably. I don’t know much about that stuff.” 

“Okay.” 

“Wanna go to the basement and watch a movie?” Illumi’s face was oddly mischievous, brows lifted, eyes gleaming. Hisoka gave him a dubious look of his own and then shrugged. 

“Lead the way.” 

* * *

“Illumi--” Hisoka began, startled, as Illumi leaped over the back of the couch and settled in the small gap between Hisoka and the couch backrest. He spread his legs on either side of Hisoka and then wrapped his arms around his middle, squeezing slightly. 

“This is very affectionate of you,” Hisoka said, sounding vaguely amused. 

“My parents aren’t here,” he whispered. Hisoka laughed. 

“Yes.” 

“And Killua is at Gon’s house.” 

“Interesting.” 

“And Milluki doesn’t leave his room.” Illumi’s voice was warm, confident. He had Hisoka’s body bracketed between his legs. Hisoka leaned back, slumping against Illumi’s chest, head lolling in the crook of Illumi’s neck. 

“Hold on,” Hisoka said, even as he nibbled at Illumi’s ear. “What on earth is playing on the tv?” 

“Nature: Fabulous Frogs.” 

“Oh, Illumi, we are _not_ \--” 

“I want to. It’s narrated by David Attenborough.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Please?” And Illumi twisted his head to look Hisoka in the eyes the best he could. 

“Fine,” Hisoka said immediately, because what else was he going to say? He felt Illumi smile against his temple, a smug smile. 

The documentary had only just started. It was going to be a long evening. 

“Can I--” Illumi paused, thinking. His voice was a little too loud in Hisoka’s ear, but Hisoka didn’t mind enough to say something. 

“Can I return the favor, from this morning?” Hisoka fought back a cackle. 

“Sure, darling.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“ _Husband_.” 

“ _Stop_ ,” Illumi hissed, but Hisoka could tell he was blushing, could feel the heat from his cheeks. 

On the television, the screen went black and then cut to a viciously vibrant green leaf, a closeup. Simultaneously, Illumi slid his hands up Hisoka’s stomach, to his chest, and back down, over and over. 

It was the kind of thing you did absently to a dog in your lap, but embarrassingly enough, it was causing heat to stir in the pit of Hisoka’s stomach. He sighed, barely audible, and tilted his head upwards, burying his nose a little further into Illumi’s neck. He smelled good, clean and crisp and a little dark. 

“Are you watching?” Illumi asked, and he sounded serious. 

“No,” Hisoka said, sighing again, melting like a pad of butter against his--”Illumi?” 

“Hm?” 

“Are you my boyfriend?” 

“Am I yours?” 

“I think one is reliant on the other.” 

“Well, then, yes.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka said, eyes closing again. A relief settled in his chest, relaxing his mouth, unclenching his hands. “Good.” 

One of Illumi’s hands stopped sliding up and down his torso. Instead, it came upward, and then, with impressive precision, thumbed over Hisoka’s nipple. 

He jolted. 

“Sorry,” he said right after. Illumi didn’t reply, but he pressed a chaste kiss to Hisoka’s shoulder, through his t-shirt. 

“Can I take my shirt off?” Hisoka asked, not sure why he did. 

“No, leave it on,” Illumi said.

“Okay,” Hisoka breathed. On the television, a yellow frog leaped into a puddle. 

Illumi was watching the documentary still, eyes fixed, tracking the movement like a cat. His hands traveled all along Hisoka’s body, rubbing the thin cotton of his shirt against his skin. 

It almost felt overwhelming, the scratch of fabric. 

“Illumi,” he whispered. He got another kiss, a little less sexless than the first one, on his cheek. 

“Can you--” 

Illumi wasn’t very vocal during these things, Hisoka had learned. The opposite of him. But, even without speaking, he was good at communicating what he wanted. Hisoka tried to finish his initial plea, but was interrupted with a feather-light hold on his throat, four fingers, barely touching, but absolutely there. Hisoka felt his throat bob against Illumi’s fingers. 

He was definitely hard. Illumi was too, he could feel it against his lower back--a dick was always a lot more intimidating when it was pressed against you. 

As if reading his mind, Illumi stroked down towards his groin, cleverly skirting his erection and stroking soothingly at his thigh. 

Hisoka was _really_ hard, and he wanted to take his clothes off, and David Attenborough's voice wasn’t putting him off, not even a little bit, which was a worry in and of itself. 

“You okay?” Illumi asked suddenly, voice a whisper. 

Sweet. 

“Mhm,” Hisoka said, tilting his hips up in an indication of what he wanted. If Illumi noticed, he didn’t let on, just kept stroking his inner thigh, getting closer and closer to his erection. 

“ _Illumi_ ,” Hisoka whined, louder this time. He had hands, they were limp at his side, draped over Illumi’s thighs. He could use them, theoretically, if he wanted to touch himself, but that didn’t seem satisfying. 

“ _Illumi,”_ Hisoka repeated. Illumi kissed him a third time, and then finally, smoothed his hand over the front of Hisoka’s pants. 

It was nothing more than pressure, just a palm pressing against his dick, darkening the wet spot he had already left on his sweats. 

“Ah--better,” Hisoka got out. Illumi pressed the heel of his palm down until Hisoka squealed, involuntary, and his cheeks turned a dark red. 

“Could you just--” He reached down, to adjust Illumi’s hand, to give himself more to grind up against. Illumi, however, swatted his hand away and then with his other hand, took Hisoka’s chin in a firm grip and wrenched his head backward, upside-down eyes gazing at each other. 

This was the Illumi that had knocked him to the ground during that lacrosse practice. 

Hisoka craned his neck to get a kiss from Illumi, but Illumi went in and pecked the corner of his mouth, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Hisoka felt his hand slide down again, tracing a circle around a nipple, scratching over it until Hisoka whimpered, and he held his breath until it finally came to his cock. 

Illumi snorted in amusement at how hard he was, and then, blessedly, stroked Hisoka through his sweats--just once, however. 

Hisoka groaned, thrusting up. A frog, brightly colored, mounted another slightly duller frog from on the broad expanse of a rainforest leaf. 

Illumi got a grip on Hisoka’s cock, a good one and used his precum to lube him up just enough for continued stroking. 

“Please, please, touch me,” Hisoka begged. 

“I am,” Illumi pointed out. Hisoka’s head threw back and he rolled his hips, ass pushing against Illumi’s dick, his own dick sliding usually through Illumi’s hand with not nearly enough friction. 

“I was _way_ nicer this morning,” Hisoka said shakily. Illumi licked at the shell of his ear, bit down, then licked over it again. 

“Well--” They both froze as overhead, the sound of footsteps echoed through the house. 

Hisoka squirmed in Illumi’s lap. 

“Who was that?” He asked. Instead of answering, Illumi shoved Hisoka’s sweats down to his mid-thigh. Hisoka glanced away from his own cock, embarrassed by how hard he was. Illumi didn’t seem to care. Hisoka heard him spit on his hand and then a blessedly warm, blessedly wet hand was sliding over his cock, just enough pressure--perfect. 

“Milluki,” Illumi finally answered, slightly breathless, “probably.” The footsteps sounded again and Hisoka jerked. He tried to sit up properly, head coming up from Illumi’s shoulder, but then Illumi was pressing a hand over his forehead and pushing him back down, kissing his cheek as he did. 

“Stop moving.” As if to emphasize his point, he lifted his foot and put it on the inside of Hisoka’s thigh, then pulled outward, spreading his leg out until his hip flexor flared up with pain. 

“You couldn’t suck me off like a normal person?” Hisoka mumbled into Illumi’s neck. He felt Illumi’s lashes flutter against his cheek. 

“Isn’t this better?” Illumi asked. He was being serious. Hisoka had started to take on a tremble, a whole-body gesture that had never happened to him before. His head lolled as Illumi’s hand tightened just so. 

It wasn’t wet enough. There was a hot, rough drag, but Hisoka didn’t care much about that at this point. Illumi thumbed at his head, nail digging into the slit. 

“Ah, ah, _Illumi_ ,” Hisoka whined. 

“Oh, sorry,” Illumi replied, kissing his brow in apology. David Attenborough was narrating a frog as a clung upside down to a banana leaf. 

Lots of leaves in this documentary, Hisoka noticed hazily. 

“ _I wanna come_.” A hand soothed up his stomach, the hand not holding his cock. 

Illumi’s foot, holding his right leg further open that it needed to be, flexed against the meat of his thigh. At a distance, it was fairly easy to tell that Hisoka was the bigger of the two. It wasn’t glaring, but it also wasn’t necessarily up for debate. Illumi was just a little slighter, an inch shorter. 

Like this, however, Hisoka felt like Illumi was twice his size--twice his size, twice his age, twice his everything.

A pale, veined hand slid into his view and then blocked it, pressing against his eyes until all he was aware of was a grip on his cock and David Attenbourrough cheering on a hapless poison dart frog. 

* * *

“ _I really wanna--_ Illumi, it _hurts_.” Hisoka wouldn’t stop squirming, stomach flexing like he couldn’t breathe. He was so hard that Illumi had to guess it was painful--red and twitching with every errant touch.

His head lolled over more, deliveirng Illumi a mouthful of feathery pink hair. 

“Hisoka,” Illumi started. Hisoka made a hopeful noise, the sound Mike made when someone was eating a ham sandwich near him. 

“Relax.” 

“ _I can’t_.” 

And then those fucking footsteps were back. Illumi could tell it was Milluki, going by the heavy tread, but considering the way Hisoka whimpered, that didn’t matter to him. 

Illumi tightened his grip on Hisoka’s cock, sliding from tip to base. It was too dry, too red. Without thinking, he brought his hand to Hisoka's mouth and without having to ask, three of his fingers were being sucked all the way down. 

He and Hisoka let out twin moans. 

When he pulled his hand away, it was connected to Hisoka’s lips by a gleaming trail of saliva. From what he could see of Hisoka’s face, his lips were swollen and bitten and half-open, eyes glazed over like he had been ripped from the deepest part of REM sleep. 

In an act of mercy, Illumi wrapped his significantly wetter hand back around Hisoka’s cock and stroked until Hisoka’s back was arching and he kept making these sounds that Illumi was a little worried Milluki _would_ hear. 

“ _Illumi_ ,” Hisoka garbled against his neck. A school of tadpoles swam desperately through murky water. 

“It’s okay,” Illumi said distantly. 

Hisoka came with a soft, relieved sound, cum painting his stomach and Illumi’s hand and wrist. Almost immediately, a wave of tension left him, and he sank even further against Illumi, head dropping forward, groaning blearily. 

Illumi lifted his hand to the light, watching the way it glistened. Curiously, he brought his hand to his mouth and licked a stripe of cum off his index finger. 

Hisoka groaned. 

“ _Gross_.” 

“I’ve never done that before.” 

“What, torture me?” 

“Taste it,” Illumi said, wiping his hand thoughtlessly on the throw blanket beside him. 

“I can’t move,” Hisoka mumbled. 

“The documentary isn’t done,” Illumi added, “so that’s good.” 

“Joy.” Illumi pulled Hisoka’s pants back up onto his hips and then remanuevered both of them so that he was lying lengthwise on the couch and Hisoka was plastered on top of him, eyes already starting to close. 

“This is the best part,” Illumi whispered in his ear. 

“You’ve seen this before?” Hisoka demanded incredulously. Illumi shushed him by rubbing up his spine. 

Milluki stomped around upstairs a little more. 

Hisoka could feel his eyes becoming incredibly heavy, the warm weight of Illumi’s hand pulling down his shoulder blades, lulling him to sleep. It was February, just a month until the spring term would start and then another two and a half months and it was over. 

Hisoka had never been in this position before, begging springtime not to come, hoping winter would hold on for just a little longer. 

“Are you asleep?” Illumi asked suddenly, hand pausing at the small of his back. 

“No,” Hisoka rasped. 

“Are you going to?” Hisoka lifted his chin until it was propped on Illumi’s chest. He looked Illumi in the eyes and was surprised to find an indescribable fondness swimming there. 

“Dunno, maybe.” Illumi had the kind of face you could look at over and over and never get sick of it. Hisoka should make him an Instagram account. He would do well. 

“Okay,” Illumi said and he gave Hisoka a small smile. Hisoka returned the favor with a top row of teeth and scrunched eyes. 

“Is this almost over?” Hisoka asked, jerking his head towards the documentary. 

“Almost,” Illumi promised, smoothing a cowlick at the back of Hisoka’s head. 

“I’m gonna sleep ‘til then.” 

“Goodnight.” 

Hisoka was heavy. Illumi’s left calf was starting to go numb, but he didn’t have the heart to wake him. He was letting out little puffs of air from his nose that every so often turned into a snore. His left arm dangled off the couch, while the other was wrapped under Illumi’s back. Illumi couldn’t believe it was very comfortable, but Hisoka seemed to be sleeping through it peacefully. The t-shirt Illumi had lended him was ruined now, as was the throw blanket. 

Illum would have to roll up his sleeves and do some laundry himself--without the butlers noticing, somehow. 

Hisoka made a high, soft sound in his sleep and then shifted atop Illumi, face turning to bury into the other side of Illumi’s neck, his hand, the one trapped under Illumi’s back, clenching and unclenching. 

For Illumi, springtime had consistently been the best time of the year. He was always playing too much lacrosse to have time for his father to hit him. The same went for Killua, who played with Gon in a youth league. The weather was nice enough to have classes outside on the Great Lawn in the center of campus. Illumi could take Mike on hikes during the weekend and he could lay out on the balcony of his room and doze, like an elderly person on a porch. 

Springtime had always been his favorite. Except now, he was beginning to wish it would never come. 

The documentary had ended a few minutes ago. The movie theater, as they called it, was silent and a little dark. Illumi didn’t know why it was called a movie theater. There weren’t movie theater seats because they were tacky, according to Kikyo. Instead, there were two designer linen sofas, flanked by leather chairs. 

“Hisoka?” 

“Hm?” 

“We should go upstairs.” 

Hisoka made a dissenting noise. Illumi didn’t really have it in him to wake Hisoka up from what was clearly an immensely satisfying slumber. 

“Okay, we can stay,” Illumi said, pressing a kiss to Hisoka’s forehead. It took a bit of straining and maneuvering, but he managed. 

“Sweet dreams.” 

* * *

Illumi woke with a startle to the sound of a vacuum. 

“ _Wha?”_ Hisoka mumbled. 

“Oh, sorry boys,” a butler murmured. She eyed them, tangled together like puppies, and then continued her vacuuming. “Didn’t realize you two had fallen asleep here.” 

“Why are you vacuuming?” Illumi croaked. His whole body ached, especially the parts that Hisoka had fallen asleep on. 

“Oh, your father’s coming home today, didn’t you know?” 

“What?” Hisoka asked, suddenly tense. The butler gave both of them a long look. 

“I said,” and she readjusted her grip on the vacuum. “Mr. Silva Zoldyck is coming home at eleven, today.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you may have noticed I added on two more chapters to this monster. stay tuned :) peace!
> 
> as always, comments are my reason for existence
> 
> oh and this is my twitter, follow me >:) https://twitter.com/ohofcourses


	9. The Sports Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go better than expected. Illumi drives a car!

Silva Zoldyck stood in the doorway of the Zoldyck mansion with Mike panting happily at his side. A butler stood behind him, holding a black carryon and eyeing the space between Silva and Hisoka with an almost clairvoyant wariness. 

It was the most awkward experience of Hisoka’s life, watching the Zoldyck children, three of five, patter up to their father to greet him. Killua was kissed atop the head, hair ruffled in a large, calloused hand. Milluki’s cheek was pinched and then he was clapped on the shoulder.

“How are your… games?” Silva asked him. An admirable attempt, really. 

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you and mother about that. My gaming keyboard is--” 

“Later, Milluki,” Kikyo snapped. 

“Illumi, you have a guest,” Silva added, head swinging to Hisoka.

“This is Hisoka,” Illumi said, nodding to Hisoka at his side. He held out a hand and when Silva took it, Hisoka squeezed as hard as he possibly could, nails digging into the back of the other man’s palm. 

“You’re an attackman,” Silva said, releasing Hisoka’s hand, head tilting down to look Hisoka in the eyes. As a child, Hisoka had always had trouble with eye-contact. He was naturally shy, and naturally mischievous, and looking people in the eyes had always felt like a concession. 

Hisoka was better at it now, partly, he realized with a jolt of irritation, because of Illumi, who stared people down like an aggressive dog on a leash. Hisoka didn’t know where Illumi had learned such intense eye-contact, but it made looking other people in the eye, even people like Silva, feel easy in comparison. 

Silva had blue eyes, a shape too nice and feminine for his face. He looked nothing like Illumi. 

“Say hello to your father, Illumi,” Kikyo hissed in a stage-whisper. Illumi waddled sideways two steps, allowing his father to wrap him in a stiff embrace

Silva pressed a kiss to Illumi’s temple. Illumi’s eye scrunched. 

“Congratulations on the captainship, Hisoka,” Silva said, an arm wrapped around his eldest son’s shoulders. They were nearly the same height, though Silva was at least twice as wide. 

“Thank you.” 

“I’ve always said that I liked your playing style. Very direct, very dynamic, a pleasure to watch, really.” 

“You two can talk more during dinner,” Kikyo said briskly. “Silva, honey, we need to speak to the chef about the plans for tonight.” 

Wife and husband started down the hallway, fingertips brushing like they were teenagers at prom. Hisoka had never seen that before, parents actually in love with each other. 

“I want to do nine courses for tonight…” Kikyo said, her voice fading as they disappeared into the bowels of the house. 

“Whatever you want, my dear,” Silva replied. 

* * *

They didn’t even make it to dinner before Illumi and Silva got into a fight. Hisoka was on the couch with Milluki, a whole floor below where the fight was taking place, but he could hear it from the floor below: Illumi screaming, Silva shouting back, Kikyo joining in with brief, shrill exclamations.

“Is this normal?” 

“Illumi and Silva fight a lot,” Milluki said distractedly. He was engrossed in a vigorous round of texting. He was always texting someone. Hisoka had the feeling that of the Zoldyck children, he was the most popular by a considerable margin. 

“What do they fight about?”

“Well,” Milluki said, lifting his head from his phone and squinting at the air. “They don’t fight, actually. Illumi and Kikyo fight, and then Kikyo gets mad at Silva for letting ‘his son’ be disrespectful towards, and then Silva gets mad at Illumi for making Kikyo mad at him so then he gets mad at Illumi.” 

“Oh,” Hisoka said faintly. 

“Kikyo is obsessed with Illumi,” Milluki went on boredly. “And Killua. But mostly Illumi.” 

“She’s your mom. It makes sense that she cares a lot about you guys.” Milluki laughed. 

“Oh, no, I mean she’s crazy with them. She tries to control everything they do. Silva is the chiller one, but he just doesn’t like it when we’re rude, I guess.” 

“Illumi’s kind of rude,” Hisoka said. Milluki rubbed at his elbow resentfully. 

“He’s a basket-case.” 

Hisoka could remember last year when he really believed that Illumi was reserved and elitist and didn’t care to make friends. How wrong he’d been. 

The Illumi he knew now was indiscriminately violent, foul-tempered, more air-headed than he let on, and evidently, was very good at hand stuff.

One floor above, a door slammed shut and footsteps thudded down the stairs. 

Illumi stormed into the living room, knocked a throw pillow off the couch, and then collapsed in it, one side of his face bright red, arms folded over his chest. 

“You’re so stupid,” Milluki said. 

“Shut up.” 

“You antagonize her, and him, actually. Both of them.” 

“At least I do something,” Illumi muttered. Milluki went tense. It seemed that this was an argument they had had many times before. 

“I’m going to my room,” Milluki said, grabbing the lone mug on the coffee table and taking it with him. Illumi watched him go with narrowed eyes. 

“What’d you fight about?” Hisoka asked, trying to keep his voice casual. He had learned that with Illumi, it was best to treat things of this nature like one would treat a child’s bumped knee: don’t make a big deal or they’ll realize it actually hurt. 

“Ah, the usual,” Illumi said with a relaxed exhale. His tone of voice made it clear that he wouldn’t be elaborating. 

Milluki’s absence seemed to have calmed him, though. His eyes, which had been so bright and fierce, were softer and sleepier; the redness on the left side of his face was nearly gone. Hisoka tapped his kneecap. 

“Can we go to your room?”

“Sure.” 

* * *

“Illumi?” Silva. 

“Illumi, are you in there? I can hear you.” 

“Yes, dad?” Illumi hissed out. Hisoka glanced up at him, hair mussed, and then sank back down, all the way to the base, nose pressing against Illumi’s pelvis. Illumi let out a soft, muffled groan. 

With the way they were arranged--Illumi sprawled back against the pillows at his headboard, Hisoka between his legs--it would have been very easy to hear them from Illumi’s bedroom door, but a late-February shower was raging against the windows, blessedly blocking out most of the sound. 

“Illumi, your door is locked,” Silva said, trying the knob. 

“I’m-- _ hah _ \--changing.” 

“Is Hisoka with you?” Illumi felt Hisoka laugh around his dick, the vibration making his toes curl. 

“No, he’s with--um, with Mike on the grounds.” Hisoka reached up and ran his thumb over Illumi’s nipple. Illumi jolted and twisted his torso away from Hisoka’s hand, or tried to. Hisoka used his other free hand to brace against Illumi’s shoulder, holding him against the mattress without much effort. 

“Since it’s just you,” Silva said through the door, sighing. “I wanted to apologize for our argument earlier. Your mother is…” Hisoka’s teeth scraped at the underside of Illumi’s cock, drool spilling out of his bottom lip. 

Illumi’s head knocked back. He gazed dazedly up at his ceiling, eyes prickling with wetness, and wondered how on earth had he gotten in this position.

And wondered, also, briefly, why his father apologizing to him through his bedroom door wasn’t necessarily putting him off. 

Hisoka rubbed a hand soothingly up his hip, which made Illumi realize, with a jolt, that he had been jerking them, bucking up into Hisoka’s throat without thought. It was evident in the redness of Hisoka’s cheeks and in the tears sliding out the outside corners of his eyes that he had gone a bit too far. 

_ Sorry,  _ Illumi mouthed, releasing his grip in Hisoka’s hair to pat him on the head. 

“Your mother is…” Silva said again, struggling, it seemed. “She’s difficult. But you know she loves you very much.” 

“Yes,” Illumi croaked. Hisoka hollowed his cheeks, simultaneously tweaking Illumi’s nipple. 

The sound Illumi made was a high, involuntary whine which he cut off himself, clapping a hand over his mouth with wide eyes. Hisoka looked similarly surprised because he pulled off Illumi’s cock, lips swollen and pink, and raised both eyebrows, cheeks rounding into a smile. 

_ Enjoying yourself?  _ Hisoka mouthed. 

Illumi scowled, fisted his hand in Hisoka’s hair, and shoved him back down. 

“And you know that I have an obligation to her as a husband, but also to you as a father.” 

“Mhm,” Illumi squeaked. Hisoka’s hand had found its way back to his chest. 

“And… look,” Silva sighed, “I don’t like resorting to violence.” Illumi caught Hisoka rolling his eyes. 

“But you know how I value obedience in children.” 

“Yes, father,” Illumi ground out. Hisoka lifted his head again, replacing his mouth with a slightly too-dry hand. He dug his fingernail in Illumi’s slit, eyes pinned to Illumi’s face, waiting for a reaction. What he got was a stilted gasp and eyes closing slowly, head tipping back and hair cascading over a decorative pillow. One of Illumi’s knees, connected to a very powerful thigh, came up, narrowly avoiding Hisoka’s chin. Illumi didn’t seem to notice. 

“Your mother and I have very high expectations of you,” Silva continued. Illumi’s thighs suddenly tried to close, but Hisoka got a hand against his inner knee and slowly pushed them back apart. 

He leaned totally over Illumi, mouth coming up to kiss gently at his neck. His hand was still moving, stroking his cock with slow, painful drags. 

_ “Hisoka _ , _ ”  _ Illumi gasped, attempting to squirm away as his grip tightened. 

“Hm?” Hisoka brought his hand back up to his mouth, ran his tongue up it lengthwise, and then resumed stroking Illumi, who let out a stuttered, breathless laugh. 

“And you are a very impressive son. All of my friends tell me that we did well with you.” Hisoka made an amused noise that prompted Illumi to dazedly smack him. 

“I’m letting my thoughts wander,” Silva said with a sigh. “I came here to apologize for our fight. It’s been a bit of time since something like that has happened. You need to remember that everything I do is with the intention of bettering you.” 

“Yes,” Illumi said shakily. 

“When you have the chance, go apologize to your mother. She can be controlling, I know, but she does it out of love.” Hisoka sighed against his neck, mouth opening to gently scrape his teeth against the sensitive skin there. 

“Okay,” Illumi whispered, eyes clouded, too quiet for his father to hear, and too out of it to realize that. 

“Illumi?”  
“I will!” Illumi said, louder. Hisoka laughed silently against his skin, chest shuddering. 

“Alright, Illumi. I’ll leave you to it.” Silva knocked twice on the door in goodbye and then left, treading down the hall with heavy footsteps. 

“For  _ fuck’s sake _ ,” Illumi hissed as soon as his father was decidedly gone. 

“Aw, but you did so well!” 

“Shut up,” Illumi hissed, cheeks going red. 

“You were so quiet, relatively,” Hisoka said seriously, their noses touching. “I was so impressed.” 

“You’re so annoying.” 

“Such a good boy,” Hisoka purred, patting his cheek. 

Illumi shoved Hisoka, hard, scowling as Hisoka glanced sideways at him, eyes sparkling with affection. 

“You’re so mean to me.” Hisoka rubbed his arm like it hurt.

“You ask for it.” 

“Yeah,” Hisoka said with a content sigh. He rolled back onto his stomach and reached towards Illumi. His pointer finger traced a slightly shaky line up the length of Illumi’s cock, his touch feather-light. 

“When do you think we’ll have sex?” Hisoka asked, swiping at the little bead of precum that had collected at the head. 

“Could we talk about this after?” Illumi asked tiredly, staring down at himself with an almost endearing weariness, like his erection was a spilled smoothie on the carpet that he would have to clean up. 

“How would it work?” Hisoka mused. 

“Well, I’m not going to be the bitch,” Illumi said firmly. Hisoka pinched his inner thigh hard enough that Illumi winced. 

“You have some very messed up ideas on things, don’t you?” 

Illumi grunted in a way that made Hisoka laugh again.

“Is it weird that I’m not really feeling it anymore?” Hisoka said suddenly. 

“Feeling what?” Illumi demanded, sitting up on his elbows. Hisoka gestured to the both of them and sighed, one eye squinting in an expression that Illumi knew he was doing on purpose, to be cute. 

“Now that your dad’s gone, I’m not really in the mood to keep going,” Hisoka said airily, mischief in his expression 

“You’re sick,” said Illumi, scooting to the edge of the bed to stand up. 

“Hey--”

“You act all slutty and then when it actually comes down to it--” 

Hisoka laughed so hard that he fell over, both rows of teeth flashing, eyes screwed shut. Illumi’s expression soured even further. He took one of his pillows and slammed it on top of Hisoka’s face, pressing down to muffle his laughter. 

“I was kidding!” Hisoka called after squirming out from under the pillow, but Illumi was already slamming the door shut to the bathroom and turning the shower on, presumably finishing the job himself. 

* * *

“We’re going out,” Kikyo said through Illumi’s door. 

“What?” 

“Open the door, Illumi. I won’t speak to you through the architecture.” Illumi rolled his eyes, which made Hisoka smile giddily. 

“Yes, mother,” and the door swung open. Kikyo was in a different outfit: a black jumpsuit with a Chanel brooch pinned to her chest. 

“I got us a private table at Marigold. Please lend your friend something decent.” Her eyes roved over Hisoka slightly dismissively. 

“When are we leaving?” 

“An hour. Try to--” Kikyo froze mid-sentence. Slowly, as if she was touching an easily spooked horse, she reached out to her eldest son and cupped his chin. Her thumb extended up to his cheek, stroking over the bone there. 

“All those late nights,” she murmured, “your skin is suffering for it. I need to book you for another facial. I’ve told you this, Illumi. You got your mother’s skin, it’s very sensitive.” 

“Okay.” 

“Hisoka, do you believe in facials?” Kikyo asked. Hisoka raised an eyebrow. He believed in them, certainly, but belief had not been what was holding him back from getting one. 

“Mom,” Illumi hissed, looking embarrassed. 

“I believe in them,” Hisoka said. Kikyo clapped her hands. 

“Great, I’ll book you both for tomorrow. Illumi, get dressed, and brush your hair for god’s sake.” 

“Okay.” 

“We’re leaving in an hour!” And then Kikyo was gone. 

Illumi slumped at her absence, shooting Hisoka a look of petulant irritation.

“I can’t tell if she likes me or not,” Hisoka said. 

Illumi snorted, making his way to his closet. 

“She warms up to people very slowly. She hated Gon.” 

“I like Gon,” Hisoka said with a frown. “How could she hate him?”

“Killua likes him more than he likes her.” 

Given what Hisoka could assume about Gon and Killua’s relationship, it was actually a very good thing that Killua didn’t like his mother in the same way. Then again, it didn’t seem like Kikyo would be very responsive to that logic. 

“Is this Marigold place nice?” 

“Probably,” Illumi said with a shrug. 

“I’m gonna look it up on my phone.” Illumi didn’t respond, but going by the looks of it, he was deep in his closet. 

“It has four dollar signs on google maps!” 

“What?” 

“Four dollar signs, Illumi, that means it’s really expensive.” Illumi drifted out of the closet and peered over Hisoka’s shoulder, eyes narrowed at his phone screen. 

“Huh, I’ve never noticed that before.” 

“Of course you haven’t,” Hisoka sighed. 

“Sorry,” Illumi said, not sounding very sorry. 

“Do we have to wear a suit?” 

“Yes.” 

“Will one of yours fit me?” 

“I think so,” but Illumi sounded skeptical. 

* * *

Illumi had an unnecessary amount of suits for someone who didn’t have a job on Wall Street. After Hisoka had showered, fluffing at his hair with a hand towel, they reconvened in Illumi’s bedroom and began to figure out what to wear. 

Illumi laid out a suit for himself first, a gray Thom Browne suit and a pair of white sneakers. The suit jacket was shrunken, in the trademark Thom Browne style. 

Illumi fetched a brown sweater to wear underneath. 

“Okay, for you,” he mused, utterly unaware that Hisoka was fawning over the suit jacket like it was a freshly born baby. 

“Do your parents just buy this for you?” 

“My mother.” 

“You don’t even have to ask?” Illumi finally looked properly at Hisoka, brows lowered over his eyes in a rare moment of self-awareness. 

“No,” he said, sounding appropriately flustered. “She cares a lot about appearances.” Hisoka thought of Illumi eating half a protein bar for breakfast before games. 

“That’s a really nice suit.” 

“I’ll see if I have something that’ll fit you,” Illumi said. He disappeared into the closet once again.

Illumi returned a few minutes later with four suits in his arms. He laid them all out, hands on his hips, and frowned. 

“The black pants should fit,” Illumi said. Hisoka stripped his sweats and put them on. They did fit. 

“Is it too tight on my ass?” 

“You just want me to look at your ass,” Illumi said with narrowed eyes. He still did, spinning Hisoka around and giving it a good look over. 

“You’re fine. Now, we need to find you a suit jacket.” 

They settled on one that was almost the exact same color as the suit Illumi was wearing. From the waist up, they looked like a pair of unlikely twins. 

“We should take photos for my Instagram,” Hisoka said. Illumi combed at his hair with his fingers. 

“Okay. I’ll make Killua take them.” 

* * *

“This is stupid.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“You guys look so stupid,” Killua said for the second time, scowling as he took photos of Illumi and Hisoka, who stood side-by-side like close-together gargoyles. 

“I think they look nice.” 

“Thank you, Gon,” Hisoka said warmly. 

Gon beamed. He and Killua were wearing slacks, both a little short at the ankles, and a brown and blue sweater respectively. They, like Hisoka and Illumi, looked like a perfect set of two. 

“Boys, you look lovely,” Kikyo cried. Silva offered his arm to her and she clutched it, going down the four steps at the entrance of the house carefully. Her heels weren’t all that tall but they were a very thin stiletto. 

Silva was in a black suit and overcoat. Kikyo, on his arm, was wearing a black tweed outfit, skirt and jacket, that bore a different Chanel brooch on the lapel than the one from earlier. 

“Are we taking two cars?” Silva asked. Kikyo did a headcount. 

“Five children, that’s a lot,” she mused. 

“Can I drive a car?” Illumi asked. Kikyo hesitated.

“You haven’t been driving a lot these past--” 

“Come pick one out,” Silva said, already making his way to the garage. Illumi glanced once at his mother, as if gauging her reaction, before following his father. Killua, Gon, Milluki, and Hisoka trailed after him like ducklings. 

* * *

Silva was a car man, Hisoka concluded. He had to be, because the alternative was that he wasn’t, and he just owned about twenty outrageously nice cars for no real reason besides whim, and that was inconceivable. 

“Can we just pick a car and go?” Milluki asked, eyeing the assortment of vehicles with disinterest. 

“ _ We _ want to go with Hisoka,” Killua snapped. Gon nodded. 

“I’m older, I call it,” Milluki said, jabbing a finger at Killua.

“We could just pick a two-seater and bring none of you,” Illumi hissed. 

“Is that a Bugatti?” 

“Dunno, is it?” Illumi asked Milluki, who shrugged. 

“Why should I know?” 

“Good eye, Hisoka,” Silva said, looking genuinely pleased. “Picked this up earlier this year. It was custom-ordered for someone in Hong Kong, but they pulled out of the sale last minute. I got it for a steal.” Silva looked over the car proudly. Hisoka wasn’t sure what he defined a “steal” as, but he figured that regardless, he was looking at a multi-million-dollar car. 

He felt he had done a pretty good job of not resenting the Zoldyck wealth, but there was something about this, an underground garage with floors clearly buffed daily, filled with cars that had barely been driven, cars worth the kind of money that could change people’s lives, that was just a little sickening. 

“I want to ride in the green one!” Gon called. A big forest green G-Wagon was parked near the entrance to the underground garage. Gon leapt over to it and peered at his dull reflection in the paint job. 

“Can we do the Chiron, then?” Illumi asked his father. Silva leaned in close to Illumi’s face, until the point that their noses were almost touching. Hisoka could see by the twitch of Illumi’s face that he was trying not to smile. Silva blinked. 

“Are you going to crash it?” 

“No.” 

“Are you going to go over the speed limit in it?” 

“No.” 

“Are you going to drag race someone?” 

“No.” 

“Are you going to--” 

“Daaaaad,” Killua groaned. 

“Kil, hush. Are you going to text?” 

“No, Dad,” Illumi said. 

“Take it,” Silva said with a sigh. There was a row of hooks with various car keys dangling from it. Illumi snatched the key to the Chiron and skipped up to it. Hisoka felt his stomach drop to his knees. 

It was the bright blue Bugatti Chiron, from Hong Kong, parked with the wheels turned, like it had been left in a rush. The inside, which became clear as Illumi opened the passenger door, was a heart-racing cocoon of camel-colored leather with quilted seats and a futuristic center console. 

It also only fit two. 

“You’ll have to ride in the Bentley with us, boys,” Silva said, and he sounded apologetic. Killua and Gon groaned. Milluki muttered something about Illumi being the favorite, which Illumi scoffed audibly at. 

“Milluki, you would be driving by now if you had applied yourself during the driving test,” Silva chided, pushing Killua out the garage and back towards the front driveway. Gon skipped alongside happily. 

“It was rigged,” Milluki complained. 

* * *

“I don’t know how to drive,” Hisoka admitted, gingerly running his hand up the leather seat he was in. Illumi raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Really?” 

“Not like I have a car.”  _ Or anyone to teach me.  _

“Oh, I guess.” Illumi started the car and pulled out of the driveway. It was loud--the engine rumbled even at the snails’ pace they were going at. 

“Can I play music?” 

“As long as it isn’t annoying,” Illumi said. Hisoka connected to the Bluetooth, which was less complicated than he had expected. The inside of the car resembled something out of a Star Trek movie. 

Hisoka played his least “annoying” playlist and then peered out the window of the car as Illumi slid out of the garage. 

“You’re driving really slow.” 

“My dad will drown me if I scratch it,” Illumi said, lips curled up in mirth. 

“Your dad is nicer than I expected.” 

“He’s very nice,” Illumi agreed, turning the wheel one-handed. There was a lilt to his tone, a nuance that surprised Hisoka. He didn’t think Illumi was capable of such delicacy. 

The rest of the family were in the other car. Silva stuck his head out the window. 

“Remember, speed limit, Illumi. You have another life in the car.” 

“Yes, dad.” 

“Be careful, Illumi!” Kikyo called. 

“Actually, I think I’ll skid at a sharp turn and drive us off a cliff,” Illumi snapped, his head also sticking out the window. 

“Don’t be smart!” Kikyo shrieked. Illumi did a slightly dismissive wave in response and then rolled his window back up. 

“Your mom sucks,” Hisoka said. 

“Don’t be rude,” Illumi sniffed. 

“She sucks,” Hisoka said again, turning up the music. Illumi glanced at him quickly, a private thing, and smiled, then he gunned the engine, cutting his parents’ car off and tearing down the empty street. 

* * *

Illumi was actually a very good driver. Hisoka had no idea when he had gotten in the practice, seeing as he was driven everywhere by a personal chauffeur, but he was about as deft in a car as he was on the lacrosse field. It probably helped that they were in a car worth millions that made most sports cars look like food trucks. 

Illumi careened especially hard around one turn. 

“Jesus,” Hisoka gasped, gripping the side of the door. 

“Relax,” Illumi said. 

“We’re going to get there super early.” 

“Yeah,” Illumi agreed, “I know.” 

* * *

When they arrived at the restaurant--a sprawling one-story building sitting amongst well-manicured grounds that gleamed wetly in the evening light--Illumi pulled into the parking lot and parked the car in the very back corner, furthest from the restaurant entrance. 

“Don’t want to pay for valet?” Hisoka asked teasingly. “That’s pretty--” Before he could properly finish, he was being grabbed by the front of his collar and hauled across the center console into Illumi’s seat. 

His knee crashed into the side of the door, just as his mouth crashed into Illumi’s.

“ _ Ow,”  _ Hisoka said amusedly. Illumi got a grip under the backs of his thighs and adjusted Hisoka so that he was straddling him. 

Hisoka would be lying if he said it was the most comfortable position he’d been in. His lower back was digging into the steering wheel and his knees were wedged against the console and the door respectively. He couldn’t even sit up totally straight, on account of the car being tiny. 

But, Illumi was making up for it quite nicely. 

“Do you think you can get me off before dinner?” Hisoka asked. As if in response, Illumi began to fumble with Hisoka’s pants, belt buckle clattering as it came loose. 

“Wait--” Illumi said breathlessly. He already had his hand around Hisoka, palm hot and soft. Once again, without waiting for input on Hisoka’s part, Illumi shoved him  _ back  _ into his seat, except this time, with his back against the door and his legs spread and sprawled out over the console and dashboard. 

Illumi tugged his pants down to mid-thigh, spit on his hand with the veteran confidence of a pornstar, and sunk his hand and his mouth down Hisoka’s length all at the same time. 

_ “Fuck.”  _

Hisoka’s music was still playing, and it was admittedly out of place, but he couldn’t be bothered to change it. He glanced down at Illumi, brows furrowed with concentration, mouth stretched obscenely wide. 

Hisoka had received lots of blowjobs before, but they were usually a messy, whimpering affair for the person giving it. More often than not, it ended with Hisoka burying himself down their throat with a satisfied sigh. 

He didn’t think it would be like that this time. 

“H-how much time do we have?” Hisoka gasped out. Illumi held up a finger and then followed it immediately with a circle. 

“ _ I don’t think I can--hn--come in ten minutes, Illumi _ .” 

Illumi pulled his head up, saliva dripping down his chin. 

“Can I finger you?” 

The question knocked the air out of the car. 

_ “What?”  _

“I’ve been on the internet,” Illumi said, slowly stroking Hisoka’s length. “I think I know how to.” 

“We have ten minutes, Illumi,” Hisoka said doubtfully, but he was smiling shyly nonetheless. 

“It’s okay if we’re a bit late,” Illumi reasoned. 

“Fine,” Hisoka said with a weary sigh, like he wasn't vibrating with excitement. “But, I get to do it to you, then. At some point soon.” 

Illumi’s nose wrinkled. 

“I don’t think I’ll like it.” 

Hisoka snorted, an eyebrow lifting in doubt. 

“I think you really will, Illu.” 

“I don’t--” 

“Come on,  _ baby.”  _

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Aw, don’t be like that--” 

There was a knock on the driver’s seat window. Hisoka and Illumi froze, eyes caught on each other. Illumi could feel his heartbeat thundering in his ears. The knock had come from behind him, which meant presumably, Illumi’s body was covering most of Hisoka. Still, it wouldn’t be difficult to guess what they had been doing. 

Illumi felt his life pour out his ears. 

“I don’t care what gay stuff you guys are doing, I’m just letting you know that everyone is already in the restaurant. Hurry up.” 

Milluki. 

_ Oh thank god,  _ Illumi thought shakily.

“Milluki!” Hisoka said brightly, relief coloring his cheeks. “Come join us!”

“No thank you,” Milluki said sourly. 

“Go away, Milluki!” Illumi snapped, distancing himself from Hisoka and attempting to comb through his hair. 

“You guys are so gross,” Milluki said as a goodbye, marching back to the restaurant. 

“You’re still hard?” Illumi demanded, eyeing Hisoka balefully. 

Hisoka made a face. 

“It doesn’t just go down on command, you know.” For some reason, that made Illumi smile, and at the sight of Illumi smiling, Hisoka beamed. 

“You’re funny,” Illumi said, pressing his palm against Hisoka’s forehead and kissing him between the eyes. Hisoka felt his whole stomach squirm in delight. 

“For what it’s worth,” Hisoka added, buttoning his pants reluctantly. “That was excellent car head.” 

Illumi’s eyes rolled but he actually seemed glad to hear it. 

“Whatever, let’s go.” 

* * *

The inside of the restaurant was breathtakingly beautiful: floating tea candles bobbed in rough-hewn concrete basins set at intervals amidst the tables; vibrant bouquets of purple and red lilies stood as centerpieces; the china was unique to each table, intricate patterns of blues and oranges and reds and pinks and greens. 

Almost everyone at the restaurant was beautiful, and if not beautiful themselves, then beautifully dressed. It was the kind of place Hisoka could only dream about. 

The private dining room appeared to be a renovated greenhouse, with roses and pink-flowered vines climbing up the glass walls. The floor was cobbled stone, covered by a thick, luxurious Persian carpet. 

“Ah, there they are,” Silva said, sitting at the head of an exquisitely-decorated table. Illumi and Hisoka scuttled in looking very red and sheepish, hair a little less combed-through than when they had left. 

“How was the car?” Kikyo asked innocently. 

“It was fine,” said Illumi. 

“Looked like a very nice ride,” Milluki said slyly. Illumi glared daggers at him from across the table. 

“You didn’t go too fast?” Silva asked, brows lowered. 

“No.” 

“I dunno…” Milluki said. “Looked pretty fast to me.” 

Hisoka, despite himself, smiled into his hand. 

“Milluki, you’re being very cheeky today. You know how I feel about precocious children.” Kikyo’s voice cut through the air like a morning alarm. Milluki mumbled out an apology. 

“So, Hisoka,” she went on, clasping her slender hands together. “I’m going out on a limb here and assuming you haven’t been to Marigold?” Hisoka didn’t entirely love the way Kikyo said that, but there wasn’t much he could do. 

“Nope.”

“There’s a first time for everything, then,” Kikyo said airily. 

“It’s a prefixed menu, nine courses,” Illumi said, voice gentle. 

“Nine?” 

“They’re small.” 

“Bite-sized,” Milluki added slyly. Illumi kicked him under the table. 

And so dinner went. 

* * *

Much to Illumi’s surprise, Kikyo and Silva were more or less civil. Milluki continued to be snide. Gon and Killua couldn’t care less about what was happening around them. They were enthralled in their own little world, murmuring to themselves and giggling and tugging each other’s sleeves. 

Illumi was starting to warm up to Gon. Or at least, he was starting to warm up to his presence, which had become a constant in the house since fall. 

Killua went to Gon’s as often as he could, but Kikyo was suspicious of Gon’s aunt. She thought she was neglectful. Illumi found this somewhat ironic, but he would never say that out loud. 

“I played lacrosse, you know,” Silva said to Hisoka, tapping his chin, lost in a reverie. He had realized, after looking dubiously over Hisoka’s bright hair and his arrogant smile, that lacrosse might be their only common ground. Lacrosse and Illumi. 

“It was way back in college,” Silva said, sighing. “And I don’t think I was as good as you are now.” 

“Thank you,” Hisoka said earnestly. Illumi could tell he was nervous. It was sort of tiring, knowing someone so well, caring about them. He found that he was always watching Hisoka out of the corner of his eye, checking to make sure all was well. It was pathetic, slightly, but it made him feel better. 

“Illumi, you should change your order,” Kikyo said. Hisoka was listening politely to Silva as he reminisced about a college lacrosse story, something about a very rainy day and three different sprained ankles and a referee who was dead-set on them losing. 

“You shouldn’t have too much red meat. It’s not good for you. Your father is so healthy because as soon as we got married, I cut him off of red meat almost entirely. He has it twice a month. Get the fish instead.” 

“I don’t like--” 

“I think you should go pescetarian, Illumi. There are so many health benefits. You can still have your little protein shakes during lacrosse season, just enough with the red meat.” 

Illumi glowered at his plate. 

“Excuse me!” Kikyo called, waving down a waitress. “Could you change his order to the fish, for the main?” 

The waitress glanced at Illumi, slightly startled by his dark expression, and then nodded, giving Kikyo a quick, rightfully frightened smile. 

* * *

Illumi was picking at his food with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner on death row. Hisoka raised an eyebrow at him. All he got in response was a wrinkle of the nose. 

“I think I want to go to one of the guys’ houses tomorrow, maybe stay there until school starts,” Milluki said. 

“I think that’s a great idea!” Kikyo replied. She looked at Silva, expression insistent. 

“Oh, yes, sounds fun, Milluki.” 

“Can I go to Gon’s house, then?” 

“No, Kil,” Kikyo said distractedly. She was trying to fish a sprig of mint out of her cocktail, but the glass was too tall and her fingernails were too short. 

“Honestly, it’s so tacky of them not to put a plate of mint on the side as well!” 

“I’ll have them bring you some more mint, dear.” 

“Illumi, you should have some mint.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“It helps with digestion,” Kikyo added. Illumi frowned and glanced at his father. 

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

“Silva, back me up here,” Kikyo said. Silva smiled in a private way. 

“I’m sure mint does lots of things.” 

“Mom, why can’t I go to Gon’s, huh?” 

“Kil, don’t be rude to your mother,” Silva said firmly. Killua glanced at the nearest person, in this case, Hisoka, and made a face at him. 

Hisoka gave him a sympathetic look right back. 

* * *

“That could have been worse,” Hisoka said cheerily. The bright blue car gleamed like a storefront. Even surrounded by other unimaginably luxurious cars in the parking lot, it still sat a cut above the rest. 

Hisoka couldn’t quite believe it was something that the Zoldyck’s owned, let alone that Silva had allowed Illumi to drive it. 

“Be careful!” Kikyo called from the valet area. Illumi did an irritated little wave. 

They settled into the car with twin sighs, slumping together like a pair of strawberry plants in a fearsome southern heat. 

Behind them, the Zoldyck’s car pulled away from the entrance to the restaurant and exited the parking lot. 

Illumi didn’t even realize he had been holding his breath until it came out in a whoosh. Hisoka looked over at him with amusement in his mouth. 

“Stressful night?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. 

“Wanna get some of that stress out?” Hisoka asked, leaning in very close, mouth curled up at the ends. Illumi felt his stomach heat up. It was strange; being with Hisoka, there was always a chance he would be struck with wholly unanticipated arousal and it wouldn’t go away, not until he had his pants down around his thighs, spilling over his hand, or Hisoka’s hand, whichever was closer. 

His breath came out slow, shaky. 

Hisoka leaned forward an inch and kissed the corner of his mouth.

Illumi felt Hisoka’s hand wind around the back of his neck, fingers curling possessively at his nape. 

“I meant it, you know, when I said you were good before dinner.” 

“Good?” Illumi rasped, hoping that Hisoka didn’t notice the full-body shudder that went through him. Judging by his wolfish smile, he did. 

“Yeah, you are.” 

“Okay,” Illumi said, forcing himself to sound unimpressed. 

“You’re blushing.” 

“M’not.” 

Hisoka planted himself above Illumi, an arm propped on the center console. He pushed Illumi’s jacket off his shoulders, rubbing circles with his thumb over Illumi’s chest. 

“You liked this when I tried it this morning,” Hisoka said, pinching Illumi’s nipple through his sweater. 

Illumi gasped. 

“Have anyone ever done this to you before?” 

Illumi gave a small, rapid shake of his head, eyes screwed shut. 

“No?” 

“ _ No.”  _

“I’m really glad you’re my boyfriend, Illumi,” Hisoka went on, casually, mostly to himself. Illumi let out a breathless laugh. 

“You’re good at everything.” 

“ _ Stop. _ ” 

“And you’re so handsome.” 

_ “Hisoka.”  _ Illumi arched his back, pushing his chest further into Hisoka’s hand. Hisoka took the gesture for what it was, shoving his hand under the hem of Illumi’s sweater and pushing it up to reveal his chest. 

“Bite,” Hisoka said with a smile. Illumi had to open his mouth quite a bit to get the thick sweater secure between his teeth. 

“ _ Good boy _ ,” Hisoka purred. This time, instead of protesting verbally, Illumi just huffed, cheeks turning even redder. 

Hisoka switched his attention to Illumi’s other nipple, watching with churlish satisfaction as Illumi properly moaned, eyes fluttering open only to close a moment later. The nipple Hisoka had just abandoned was pink and pebbled and slightly irritated. Hisoka pressed his lips against it, to soothe it. 

Illumi whimpered. 

“Your parents are going to worry if we take too long,” Hisoka said, tweaking Illumi’s left nipple with one hand, and laving his tongue over the right. 

“Please stop talking about my parents right now,” Illumi groaned. Hisoka kissed a spot of skin just below his collarbone in apology. 

For a few minutes, all he did was tease Illumi’s chest, slow and attentive. Illumi wasn’t loud, he almost never was, but Hisoka could tell he was getting closer. Hisoka had learned to appreciate Illumi’s subtle expressions: an inhale or a bite of the lip or a screwing shut of the eyes meant as much to him as someone else’s flat-out moan. 

“Does it feel good?” He asked at the sight of Illumi twisting his torso, an attempt to get away from Hisoka’s attention. 

“What do you think?” Illumi snapped, and then: “ _ S-stop, I’m gonna come _ !”

Hisoka stopped and glanced down. Illumi was palming himself through his slacks, fingers splayed out, hand shaking as he grinded against himself. His cheeks were so red he looked ill. 

“You’re not,” Hisoka said as Illumi rubbed his palm over the head of erection in sloppy, half-desperate circles. 

“ _ I am,”  _ Illumi insisted. 

Hisoka pried Illumi’s hand away. At the sudden loss of contact, Illumi’s eyes flew open, brows lowering in angry little arcs. 

“No touching for now.” 

“What is your obsession with--” 

“For  _ now,  _ Illumi. Jesus Christ,” Hisoka said fondly. Illumi’s wrist strained in Hisoka’s grip and he leveled Hisoka with an accusatory stare. 

“Before dinner, I thought I was going to… you know.” 

Hisoka raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m not very confident about you fingering me if you can’t even  _ say it _ .” 

“I can say it, Hisoka, fucking--” Hisoka pinched Illumi’s left nipple hard, bringing his mouth down to scrape his teeth against the other. 

_ “Oh, stop--stop!”  _

“Really?” Hisoka asked, head cocking. His expression was keenly delighted. 

_ “I don’t know _ .” 

“Do you want me to stop?” Hisoka asked again, adjusting his weight in the limited space they had. 

Honestly, they should have gone back into the restaurant and used their bathroom. 

_ “I think I might come from this,”  _ Illumi gasped, hips bucking up into nothing. 

“You think? That would be really impressive, Illumi.” 

“I think--” Illumi stuttered out. “I think--” 

“What, darling?” 

“It  _ hurts _ .” Illumi’s sweater had long since fallen from his mouth, but it stayed bunched up above his chest. His nipples were both sore-looking now, slightly puffy, pinker than usual. His whole chest area was pinker than usual, flushed all the way to the neck. 

“Please keep touching me,” Illumi said softly, eyes cracking open to reveal a glimmer of black. 

Hisoka sat up a little straighter and leaned in to kiss Illumi against the mouth, compelled by his politeness. Illumi sighed against Hisoka in relief as he traced circles with his thumbs around Illumi’s nipples, slow, soothing. He could feel Illumi’s erection against his thigh, rubbing against him in short jerking movements. 

_ “I wanna come,”  _ Illumi said against Hisoka’s mouth. 

“Are you close?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Yeah?”

“Really, really, really,” Illumi said dazedly. Hisoka unbuckled Illumi’s pants, pulling them down to his thighs, freeing his erection.

It was red and leaking and when Hisoka’s breath ghosted over it, it twitched. 

“Kiss me,” Illumi demanded, pulling Hisoka back up by the hair and crashing their mouths together. Illumi’s mouth was hot and wet and tasted like the limoncello cocktail he had stolen from his mother when she hadn’t been looking.

Hisoka made a pleased keening sound. 

“I wanna fuck you,” Illumi sighed against his mouth. Hisoka laughed darkly. 

“Okay, darling.” 

As if to prove his point, Illumi grabbed a handful of Hisoka’s ass and forced him to grind down on his thigh. 

Hisoka gasped. 

“We need to leave soon,” he said hoarsely just after. 

“Make me come first.”

“I was  _ going to _ ,” Hisoka said petulantly, his lower lip jutting out and his brows furrowing. Illumi smirked, a strange look on his usually passive face, and held up a finger. 

“Wait.” He then pulled out his phone and started typing. It was oddly obscene, watching Illumi text his mother with his whole body on display, his dick hard against his stomach, chest gleaming in some places from Hisoka’s saliva.

Hisoka peered at Illumi’s phone screen, eyes wide. 

_ Hi mom, thank you for dinner. Hisoka and I are going to get ice cream so we’ll be home late.  _ Illum hit send with a satisfied sound. He leaned back sideways in the Bugatti’s bucket seat and looked over at Hisoka with lidded eyes. 

“Go on-- _ oh for fuck’s sake.”  _ Illumi’s phone had buzzed again. He wrenched it from the center console and held the screen so Hisoka could see as well. 

_ Go to Jenny’s and bring home a pint! Kisses.  _

“Now we have to actually get ice cream,” Hisoka said sullenly. Illumi frowned and hovered his thumb over his phone. 

“Hold on,” he said to Hisoka with a private smile. 

_ Milluki loves Jenny’s. He’ll be pleased we brought some home.  _

“Give her a moment,” Illumi said. 

And right on cue, a replying text came through. 

_ Ah, no, nevermind, just have your ice cream there.  _

A last text came:  _ NOT IN THE CAR.  _

_ Okay mom :) _

Hisoka let out a long whistle. 

“You’re a lot smarter than you seem, Illumi.” Illumi glared at him through a few strands of hair. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing,” Hisoka said quickly. He leaned forward, eyes gleaming again, his full, kissable lips pouted, asking, unsurprisingly, for a kiss. 

Illumi obliged with narrowed eyes. When he pulled away, however, the expression was gone. He was smiling again, a soft sweet smile that Hisoka noticed often, when Illumi didn’t think anyone was looking at him. 

“Okay, get me off,” Illumi said. And the spell was broken. 

“I don’t want Long Weekend to end,” Hisoka said into Illumi’s neck, melting over his boyfriend like chocolate. He lazily wrapped a hand around Illumi’s dick and twisted his hand. 

“Me either,” Illumi agreed, breath ruffling Hisoka’s hair. He had his head tipped back, eyes closed with satisfaction. Hisoka seemed to have had enough with being cruel. What they were doing now was intimate and easy. Illumi could feel the hint of an orgasm cresting in his stomach, pleasure building with every slow, smooth stroke of Hisoka’s hand. 

“Can I call you my boyfriend at school?” Hisoka asked. Illumi felt his chest flutter. The thought initially sent a spear of discomfort through him.  _ Boyfriend  _ was such a brave word. But then, he glanced down at Hisoka, at the way he had his nose tucked against Illumi’s neck, one golden eye looking upwards at Illumi, a perfect eyebrow arched in expectation.

“Sure,” Illumi said. 

“Can I call you my boyfriend during lacrosse games?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Damn.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments keep me going :) 
> 
> thanks so much for reading and follow me on twitter if u want to ;) https://twitter.com/ohofcourses


	10. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we've entered lacrosse-themed angst.

Coach Stern took lacrosse very seriously, arguably more seriously than the boys sitting in front of him who were supposed to be playing it. 

“I need you all to focus,” he said, not for the first time today. “We’re playing Belmont this Sunday. This is not the time for being cocky.” 

The star of the team, their number eleven, Noah, leaned back against the bench, eyes narrowed in thought. 

“They have a senior roster that is no joke. Seriously,” and Coach Stern laughed, “no joke at all.” 

He slammed his hand against the whiteboard, onto which he had already drawn a diagram of the field, squares for the opposing team and circles for them. 

“Most of their seniors start, most of them are very, very good, but specifically, there are three we have to watch out for. Our current seniors can confirm this.” 

Noah nodded sullenly, along with three other boys.

“Big three,” someone echoed. 

“First, in goal, Chrollo Lucilfer.  _ Consistent.  _ He doesn’t make mistakes. A weak shot won’t get through him. If you want to score this Wednesday, you need to be creative. He’s the star of their defensive line.” Noah’s fingers twitched slightly. 

“Second,” Coach Stern said, eyes wide, nearly bugging out of his head. “Is Illumi Zoldcyk.” Two middies let out twin groans. 

“Pain in the ass,” Coach Stern agreed. “He’s the control center of the team. He’ll be the quickest on the field and naturally, he has insanely efficient transitions. He’ll break our necks with how fast he can get the ball from their defensive third to their offensive third. Which brings me to the third player we need to watch out for--yes, a question?” Coach Stern asked one of the middies. 

“Not a question, more of a warning. The Illumi guy isn’t huge, but he’s crazy strong, and he plays very dirty. He’s notorious for injuring people. I heard from one of the juniors at Belmont that if there’s a very good player on the opposing team that they don’t think they can handle, Illumi will go ahead and take him out early on in the game. He’s really good at it.” The middie looked a little sour, like he was speaking partly from personal experience. Then again, he probably was. He, like Illumi, was a senior. They’d definitely clashed before. 

“You hear that, Noah?” Coach Stern demanded. “Don’t let Illumi Zoldyck get near you. I’ll speak to the referee before the game, to make sure he keeps an eye on him.” 

“Yeah,” Noah said. 

“And last but not least,” Coach Stern said with a grim expression. “Is Hisoka Morow.” Noah’s mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. 

“He plays with our Noah on the same club team. They’re going to the same university to play lacrosse. That alone should speak for itself. Hisoka and Illumi work well together, from what I've heard from other coaches. Especially this season. Hisoka is incredibly athletic and unpredictable with his shots. He’s their top scorer by a wide margin, and it’s not like the rest of the team isn’t talented. He plays well with whatever lineup he’s in, but he’s especially dangerous with one-on-one’s. Everyone playing defense on Wednesday, don’t let yourself go up against him alone. Noah will be man-marking him whenever he can. Anything to add, Noah?” 

“He’s really game-smart, more than he looks. And he’s patient. He won’t go to goal unless there’s an opening. He and the other guy, Zoldyck, like to play it back and forth, keep it in the middle until the other team exhausts itself.” Noah leaned back further against the bench, expression shrewd.

“Any questions?” Coach Stern asked. The array of boys before him looked dubious, faces considerably more ashen than what they’d been before the meeting. 

“Hey, don’t be like that! We’re the underdogs in this game. It’s a home field advantage and the whole school will be rooting for us. Let’s send them back to school crying.” 

* * *

“Our first game is this Sunday. I’ll send you an email with the scout and with the starting lineup. They have some players to watch, so let’s not be too cocky,” Coach said. 

The team nodded solemnly. 

“And now! In the aftermath of our fitness tests, we have some stuff to go over.” A few of the players grinned bashfully. The fitness tests notoriously went very bad at the beginning of the season. No one was remotely in-shape. 

Almost no one.

“Illumi is the only one who has improved his mile time. What has everyone been doing this winter?” 

Hisoka shrugged. 

“Why do I need to improve my mile time? I’m a goalie.” 

“Because you’re still an athlete, Chrollo. Keep that shit in the debate club.” 

“Yeah, Chrollo,” Hisoka added snidely. Chrollo flicked him. 

“In terms of weight, you guys are all over the place. Some people have lost it--” Illumi’s lips twitched with dissatisfaction. “Some people have gained it. The people who have gained weight are generally not heavier because they’ve put on muscle,” Coach added with a raised eyebrow. 

Hisoka patted his still very-toned stomach. 

“The dining hall was nailing it last term,” he said with another shrug. A few of the other boys snorted in amusement. 

“We’re moving our third weight-lifting slot to the morning on Fridays, at Illumi and Hisoka’s request.” The whole team booed. 

“Don’t you want to have your Friday nights to yourselves?” Hisoka said, undeterred in the face of the team’s hostility. 

“But six a.m. lifts?” Chrollo asked dubiously. “That sounds like hell.” 

“I think it’s very industrious,” Hisoka said brightly. 

“Lifting in the morning is going to be better for us as a team. We won’t be able to win games if we’re physically weak. Skill is not enough.” Illumi’s voice seemed to quiet the locker rooms. No one tried to contradict him. 

“On that note!” Coach said with a clap of his hands. “Practice starts in ten minutes. See you on the field!”

* * *

On Sunday, half the team was waiting outside the bus, bleary-eyed but optimistic, going by the lively chatter. 

Hisoka did a quick headcount. 

“We’re missing Illumi,” Chrollo muttered. He was bundled up tightly in a big black coat, nose pink from the cold. One of the freshmen was carrying his lacrosse bag. 

“Hisoka, call him,” their coach said, hopping onto the bus without a second glance backwards. Before Hisoka could even fish his phone out of his pocket, a flash of silver cut across the parking lot. 

“He’s here,” Hisoka said with a little sigh of relief. Illumi emerged from the car in a big green sweatshirt, which he had rolled up to the elbows. The hood of his sweatshirt was up and he had a black knitted blanket in his arms. His driver carried his lacrosse bag and an additional duffel. 

“‘Morning,” Illumi said around a yawn. At the urging of a sudden swell of fondness, Hisoka reached forward and patted Illumi’s head through his sweatshirt hood. 

“Rise and shine. Back of the bus.” Illumi was obedient. He took his bags from his driver, muttering to him in thanks, and then clambered onto the bus. Hisoka was last to go in. 

“Did you do a count?” Illumi asked. 

“Coach and I both did.” 

“One..two...three, four, five, six...seven…” Illumi didn't seem to trust them very much. 

“Twenty-seven, we’re good. Let’s go,” he said sleepily. The back row of seats in the buses were always saved for the captains. It was one uninterrupted row, close to the bathroom, quiet when it mattered, and furthest from the coaches. 

Illumi wrapped himself up in his blanket and curled up onto the window-side of the row. Hisoka collapsed next to him. 

“You sleeping?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka said, tugging the sleeves of Illumi’s sweatshirt down. 

Hisoka,” a freshman whispered from the row in front of them. “Can we play music?” 

“No,” Illumi answered, eyes still closed. “No music for the first hour.” The freshman blinked in surprise and then slid back down into his seat, grumbling. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka whispered, a hand on his knee. “Did you bring extra blankets?” 

“Bag,” Illumi mumbled. He had packed blankets and hand warmer packets and what looked suspiciously like schoolwork. 

“Mmm,” Hisoka said delightedly, throwing a large blanket over the both of them and settling against Illumi, who was giving off a delicious heat. 

“Wake me in an hour?” Illumi croaked. 

“Sure thing,” Hisoka agreed, putting in his earphones and resuming the movie he had been watching last night. Movies on a phone screen weren’t ideal, but they were better than nothing. 

From the very front of the bus, Hisoka could hear their coach talking loudly to the assistant coach. 

“...hopefully we can get some of the freshmen onto the field. I heard their varsity team isn’t very strong this year. We just need to sub out Hiso, Illumi, and Chrollo, and maybe the rest of the attack-line, save them for the games where we’ll need’em.” 

Illumi made a sound in his sleep and then sat upright, blinking blearily at a spot of nothingness just in front of him. 

“Hi,” Hisoka said amusedly. Illumi didn’t respond. He just curled back up, successfully readjusted, and went to sleep again. 

After an hour, one of the younger guys connected his phone to a bluetooth speaker. Viciously loud trap music filled the bus. Illumi opened both eyes and glared out the window. 

“Come on,” Hisoka said, shaking him by the shoulder. “You need to wake up anyway.” 

“One more minute,” Illumi said, expression dull. 

Hisoka leaned in close. 

“Are you okay?” Illumi’s eyes flew open and then slid over to Hisoka. 

“What? Yes, I’m fine.” 

“You seem tired.” 

“It’s early,” Illumi said coldly. Hisoka drummed his fingers on the seat in front of him. It was a nervous gesture, Illumi had come to realize, something he used to do a lot more, especially around Illumi himself. 

“Captains!” Coach called. “The traffic is making us late, we need to do the scout on the bus.” 

“I actually have notes--” Chrollo began. 

“Loser!” Hisoka called. Chrollo glared. 

“Everyone head to the back, turn the music off,” Coach said. He took a freshman’s seat in the back of the bus. The rest of the team squatted and stood and sat on seats and the floor, gathering around him like a class of kindergartners. 

“Did everyone read the email I sent last night?” 

“ _ Yes _ ,” everyone said. 

“What do we think?” 

“They’re a weak team,” Illumi said drowsily from his corner. “They lost six seniors, so most of their lineup is young. They’re very fit, however, and they have--” 

“Number eleven, the defender,” Chrollo interrupted. 

“Eleven,” Hisoka groaned. “Noah, he plays on my club team.” 

“Is he better than you?” Illumi asked dryly. Hisoka grinned. 

“No.” 

“Is he committed?” 

“Same school as me,” Hisoka said. Illumi blinked. 

“From the same club team?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Hm.” There was a pause. The whole team watched the exchange silently. “So he’s very good.” Illumi’s face, always pale, went a little paler. 

“Right,” Coach said with a sigh. “So they’ve got one good senior, a few talented sophomores, and that’s it. This Noah kid needs to be watched, you guys.” 

“And they’re fit,” Illumi added faintly. “Fitter than most of us.” 

“How do you know?” Chrollo asked. 

“I just do,” Illumi said flatly. Chrollo eyed him for a moment, brows lowering into a pinched look of concern. 

“Hey, are you--” 

“My plan,” Coach interrupted, “is to take out Hiso, Illumi, and maybe Chrollo by halftime. I want to get the underclassmen some playing time. When we get to the school, everyone who needs to get taped up by a trainer can go with Illumi. Everyone else, straight to the field for warmups.” 

Illumi pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up, hiding his face in shadows, and nibbled unenthusiastically at a protein bar. Hisoka settled back next to him and opened a bag of goldfish, crunching happily. 

The music was back on and the bus was filled with the busy sound of boys putting on various gear and spraying gatorade squeeze bottles at each other. 

“What are you eating?” Illumi asked, face turned away. He was swallowed up by the green sweatshirt, just a mound of fabric in a bus seat. 

“Performance-enhancing drugs,” Hisoka said, crinkling the goldfish bag in his hand. 

“Can I have some?” Illumi asked without missing a beat.

Hisoka dumped some goldfish into Illumi’s palm, watching as he ate them one-by-one. 

“Are you feeling ill or something?” Hisoka asked after a moment of quiet. 

“Will you stop?” Illumi demanded, voice suddenly harsh. 

“Because it’s pretty irresponsible to play a game if you aren’t feeling well.” 

“I feel fine.” 

“And you’ve been losing weight,” Hisoka added. He could feel himself smiling, but it was hollow and saccharine. He wanted Illumi to tell him why. “You’re getting thin.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You are.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Hisoka said. He shifted so that his hip wasn’t pressed to Illumi’s anymore. “You’re so annoying sometimes.” 

“Wonder where I got it from.” 

Hisoka’s mouth turned down at the edges. He glanced out the window, then back at Illumi. His hood was down, revealing a pale, tired face and hair half done up in a knot. 

“I don’t understand why you get so mad when I ask that,” Hisoka said. He had to speak louder than he wanted to, because of the music, but the nearby players weren’t paying attention it seemed. 

“You know I don’t like it.” 

“I’m just asking.” 

“You do it because it makes me uncomfortable. You think it’s entertaining.” 

“I just want to know if you’re okay,” Hisoka snapped, face suddenly twisted with something Illumi couldn’t quite place. 

“I’m fine,” Illumi said, “stop caring so much. It’s fucking embarassing.” And then he flipped his hood back on, folded his arms over his chest, and hunkered down in his seat, gaze fixed to the back of the chair in front of him. 

Hisoka’s cheeks were burning and unbelievably, his eyes were hot with the possibility of tears. He ran a quick hand through his hair and then distracted himself with shedding his sweatshirt and putting on his warmup jersey. Illumi wasn’t looking at him and he refused to look at Illumi. He swallowed down something invisible in his throat, and then stood up. 

“I’m gonna…” He trailed off. “I’m going up front for a second.” 

Illumi didn’t so much as twitch to indicate he had heard Hisoka. With an angry shake to his head, Hisoka trekked to the front of the bus and unceremoniously sat in Chrollo’s spare seat. 

“Uh.” 

“Illumi’s being a bitch,” Hisoka said with a shrug. Not untrue. 

“You antagonize him,” Chrollo said darkly. Hisoka’s eyes narrowed. 

“Oh, not you, too.” 

“I don’t want to fight,” Chrollo replied with a sigh. He was easy that way. He wasn’t the type to dig his heels in, not like Illumi.

“So,” Chrollo began, rubbing circles on his thigh with the heel of his palm. “Is this Noah kid really that good?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Hisoka purred. 

“He is, then?” 

“He’s good.” 

“Better than you?” It was the same question Illumi had asked, but for some reason, Hisoka didn’t really mind being truthful this time. 

“He might be.” 

“Are you and Illumi dating?” Chrollo didn’t sound hostile, or even accusatory. His expression was open, slightly calculating, but not unfriendly. He just wanted to know. 

“Yeah,” Hisoka rasped. He thought of Illumi curled up in the back of the bus, taking tiny bites of a protein bar and staring out the window. His chest ached. 

“Good for you, I guess,” Chrollo sighed. 

“Hey, we could always have a threesome.” 

“No thank you,” Chrollo said with a wrinkled nose. “I don’t want to see you in that context.” 

“Scared you won’t measure up?” Hisoka made a crude gesture that involved a closed hand and an up-and-down motion. 

Chrollo laughed. 

“Sure, that’s it, Hisoka.” 

“We’ll be there in FIVE MINUTES!” Coach shouted. 

“I should go back. My stuff’s back there.” Hisoka tried to keep the whine out of his voice. He could feel Illumi’s foul energy coming in from the back of the bus. His last foster mom had told him he was very sensitive to people’s energies, which was why he did so well at birthday parties and on first days of school. 

“Good luck,” Chrollo said, but he sounded wistful. Hisoka patted his head in a gesture he hoped Chrollo would see as genuinely fond and not mocking, as it usually would have been. Then, he made the dreadful walk back. 

Illumi’s sweatshirt was off and he was in full warm up gear, hair tied up in a ponytail, both wrists taped--he had very thin wrists, a gift from his mother, and they needed to be taped up for support. 

The same went for Hisoka’s ankles, except he wasn’t sure if he had gotten them from his mother or not. He would have to see her ankles sometime. 

“Hey,” Hisoka said gingerly.   
“Hi.” Illumi wasn’t making eye-contact, but it wasn’t angry. He seemed awkward and a little embarrassed, like he had done some thinking and realized he had been unreasonable. 

“You gonna say sorry to me?” Hisoka asked, leaning in close. He saw Illumi’s mouth twitch, a gesture similar to the way a dog’s hackles went up, just before it bit. 

“What the fuck do I have to apologize for?” Hisoka’s chest went a little tight and then he sighed it off, lips turning up on instinct. 

“Illumi, you’re so--” He stopped himself, unsure, really, how he was going to finish. 

“Okay, I’m going to let you…” Hisoka gestured vaguely at Illumi’s person. “Deal with this on your own. Clearly you don’t want my help.” 

“Clearly,” Illumi muttered. Hisoka grabbed his bag and went back to the front of the bus to lead the team when the doors opened. 

“Hiso, ready to play?” Coach asked, clapping him very hard on the shoulder. 

“Always.” 

“You do well in our away games. It seems to suit you.” 

“I like beating teams when all their friends and family are watching. It’s more satisfying.” Coach laughed. 

“Ah, you’re fun.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Where’s your other half?” 

“Back of the bus,” Hisoka said flatly. The thought of Illumi was making him feel sick. 

“Slow start for him today, huh? Did he have a late night?” 

“Porn addiction,” Hisoka said with a shrug. Coach laughed again, louder this time. The bus rolled to a stop and the door flew open. 

“Hiso, you crack me up--OKAY, LET’S GO EVERYONE!” The team filed out of the bus very neatly, which was out of character for them. 

Illumi took the players who needed to get taped to the trainer’s and Hisoka and Chrollo led the remaining players straight to the field. 

“Shit, they’re already warming up,” Hisoka heard a sophomore say. Indeed, the other team was in the middle of a stretching relay, and they were in total synchronization, lining up each lunge and shuffle and pivot. 

Very intimidating. 

“I thought they were supposed to be bad,” Chrollo muttered. 

“I think they’re compensating,” Hisoka said. “You know what that’s like, don’t you, Chrollo?” 

“Very funny,” Chrollo said as a few of the younger players chuckled. 

Because of their late arrival, they couldn’t wait for Illumi and the other players to come back. Hisoka and Chrollo led the warmup as soon as they reached the field. It was still cold out, winter’s claws still digging in. 

“You think it’ll rain?” Chrollo asked. 

“Hope not,” Hisoka said. “I forgot my raincoat.” 

* * *

It began to rain. By the time the game was set to start, it was properly pouring. Hisoka stood miserably under a sports tent, jersey plastered to his padding. Illumi stood a very deliberate five feet away, scanning the field like it was something very interesting. 

Noah, number eleven, was already on the field with his team. He knocked his stick with another player’s and then jogged to his position, the center defender. 

“Are we ready?” Coach asked. 

* * *

Hisoka looked the most frustrated that Illumi had ever seen him during a lacrosse game. Through the grid of his helmet, Illumi could visibly see his frown, brows furrowed with concentration. 

Illumi understood his irritation. Number eleven had clearly been told to man-mark Hisoka, following him relentlessly like a very stubborn terrier. He also knew Hisoka’s playing idiosyncrasies very well, well enough to be able to predict and curtail a frighteningly high number of his attacks. Even Chrollo from the goal looked sympathetic. 

After a particularly hard check, Hisoka leaned forward, hands on his knees, chest heaving with exhaustion. The rain had soaked him, and everyone else, to the bone. 

The halftime whistle blew not a moment too soon. 

“Alright, alright, alright, don’t look so somber,” Coach said as the team gathered under the tent, panting like well-run horses. Illumi blindly accepted a gatorade bottle from someone, draining it half-way in one go. 

“Number eleven has been shutting you down a lot,” Coach admitted, eyes on Hisoka, “but you’re good enough to get by him. He’s getting tired, I can tell.” 

“He predicts everything I try to do,” Hisoka said breathlessly. Gone was the challenging gleam in his eye that he usually wore during games; he looked as if the spirit had been beaten out of him. 

“You’re stronger and quicker than he is, tire him out,” Coach said. “ And Illumi, you’re too quiet in the middle.” 

“Okay.” 

“You feeling okay?” Chrollo and Hisoka’s heads both swiveled. Illumi felt his cheeks heat up. 

“I feel fine.” 

“You’re not sick, are you? We can’t afford you getting sick this early in the season. Two years ago, hm, well, actually, four years ago now, our goalie got a head cold during our second game. He was in and out of the infirmary for the next month. If you’re sick, you--” 

“Coach,” Chrollo interrupted, sensing danger if they continued down this route. “We should head back to the field.” 

“Okay,” Coach said with a clap of his hands, “Everyone, keep your heads up. We’re still winning and we are the better team, I know you know that.” 

“Better team is the one who wins,” Illumi muttered. Chrollo glanced back at him. 

“We’re going to win.” 

“Not if Hisoka doesn’t get through number eleven.” 

“I’m trying,” Hisoka said flatly. He certainly looked it. During halftime, his knees had to be taped up because they were starting to bleed from how many times he had fallen on the turf. His cheeks were bright red and his hair was very damp, more from sweat than from rain. 

“Try harder,” Illumi said, jogging out onto the field. He could feel Hisoka’s gaze on him, cold and needling.

The other team returned to the field a moment later, shoulders hunched against the rain. Illumi stared all the way down the lineup, to where number eleven was standing, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

They made brief, electrifying eye-contact. Illumi didn’t know how to feel about him, someone who was causing Hisoka so much strife. On one hand, it was impressive, a little bit attractive, and on the other, it was making his hands jitter with irritation, and with, he vaguely realized, protectiveness. 

Hisoka balled his hand up into a fist and hit both of his quads to get the lactic acid flowing in them. He had nice thighs, Illumi thought, the kind that--

The whistle blew. 

* * *

“Illumi!” A sub middie called halfway through the second half. Illumi felt a little curl of trepidation in his stomach. It was too early to pull him off the field. They were still only winning by one and the other team was hammering them with attacks. 

He jogged slowly off the field, tapping hands with the kid taking his spot. 

“Wanted to get you out as early as I could,” Coach said. Illumi stood under the tent and watched, arms folded over his chest. 

“Take your wet gear off, Illumi. You’ll catch a cold.” 

“Okay,” Illumi replied, making no move to do so. A wing middie had just stolen the ball and was flying down the sideline. He sent it up to Hisoka, who did a clever little spin out and then barreled--possibly illegally--through an outside defender. Without a glance backward, he continued to tear down the field.

Illumi missed the actual moment of contact. It happened in the space of a blink. 

The next thing he saw was Hisoka on the ground, chest heaving, and number eleven standing over him like he was about to finish the job. 

A whistle blew and the game stopped. 

Illumi’s first thought was a cruel sort of delight, a satisfaction. 

His second was,  _ that’s my boyfriend.  _

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Coach growled. The other players on the bench were stock-still. Someone, a sophomore, made a groaning sound. 

“Can I--” Illumi didn’t know what he was going to ask, didn’t know what he wanted. 

“Gather the team at the sidelines. I’m going to go over,” Coach said. Already, a medical trainer in a plastic poncho had jogged out to see to Hisoka, who was gasping in what Illumi could instantly tell was fear, and possibly pain. 

“Is it an ACL tear?” Someone asked. Illumi felt a vicious surge of anger. He looked over the team assembled in front of him. Chrollo was trying to squeeze the water out of his jersey, to no avail. 

“We--” 

“ _ Illumi! _ ” Coach called, on his knees beside Hisoka. “ _ Get your gear back on, you’re going back in the middle!”  _ That wasn’t surprising. If Hisoka was out, they would need to restabilize. 

Illumi glanced out past the heads of his team and saw Hisoka being gingerly helped to his feet. He was only putting his weight on one leg. The other was bent and held awkwardly above the ground. The trainer, a woman who looked worryingly young, was supporting him on one side, Coach was supporting him on the other. Number eleven trailed behind them looking very contrite. 

“Okay,” Illumi said to himself. The whole team was watching him. Hisoka’s face was ashen and his eyes were bright with the promise of tears. He was set down on the bench. The trainer pulled his helmet off, revealing pink-stained cheeks and sweaty hair sticking up in all directions. 

Illumi strained to hear what he and the trainer were talking about. 

_ “...heard a pop?” _

“Illumi,” Chrollo said insistently. Illumi’s head whipped around. 

_ “Does that hurt? _ ” The trainer asked. 

_ “Uhm, _ ” Hisoka said, his voice sounding watery. 

“Okay, everyone on the field,” Chrollo said, eyeing Illumi knowingly. The team dispersed, looking a little discouraged. 

“You really need to focus.” 

“I am focused.” 

“Because we’ll lose if you don’t.” 

“I am focused,” Illumi said again, and his voice was even. Chrollo wavered in one spot, cleats sinking into the peaty, soaked-through turf. 

“Okay,” he said finally. 

* * *

Illumi went to his position and then looked back to the bench, back to where Hisoka was. His padding had been taken off. Coach had put a big fleece-lined parka over his shoulders and he was squatted in front of him, speaking with a furrowed brow. 

Hisoka shook his head in response to something and then wiped both eyes roughly with his forearm. 

Vaguely, Illumi heard the whistle blow. 

And the game began again. 

* * *

It ended with a 3-1 score. Illumi and a striker, a senior, both scored within minutes of each other. They then spent the rest of the game hunkering down, rain dripping off their noses, trying to prevent the other team from getting a goal. 

They got one, but Illumi wasn’t disappointed in that. All that mattered was that they won. 

When it came time for handshakes, Illumi deliberately skipped number eleven’s outstretched hand. 

“I would really appreciate it if you used them.” The trainer’s voice was loud enough to filter in through the rain. Illumi and the rest of the team gathered again under the tent and immediately got to packing their gear up and heading to the bus. 

“Hisoka, crutches don't mean you’re crippled,” Coach said. 

“I know that,” Hisoka said, sounding a little cross. “I just don’t want to use them. I don’t need them. I can hop to the bus.” 

“All that bouncing is going--” 

“I’m not using them,” Hisoka said with finality. He folded his arms over his chest, painting a rather funny picture, with his too-big parka and his red cheeks. His knee was being iced, which seemed, in Illumi’s opinion, a little pitiful. Like ice was going to do anything. 

“Chrollo, can you take my bag?” 

Chrollo gave him a long look. 

“Please?” Illumi added. 

“Okay,” Chrollo relented. Illumi handed him his lacrosse bag and then clapped the back of his neck, deliberately letting his fingers curl tenderly at the side of his throat. 

“Thanks.” 

Illumi went up to Hisoka and stared down at him on the bench. 

“Want a piggy-back ride?” Illumi asked. The trainer made a surprised sound. 

“I’m too heavy,” Hisoka said, sounding wary. 

“No, you’re not. Come on.” Illumi squatted a little, just to be level with Hisoka, and then waited for Hisoka’s arms to wrap around his neck. He hiked Hisoka’s thighs up so that they wrapped just above his hips, and then jostled him once, to settle him there. 

Hisoka wasn’t that heavy, but Illumi had just played a lot of lacrosse, and he hadn’t really had breakfast. 

He felt his quads tremble slightly and then he was marching towards the bus, Coach in tow. 

“I’m not too heavy?” 

“No,” Illumi said. Hisoka had his chin propped on Illumi’s shoulder, slumped over his back like a child. The knee that was injured was already starting to swell. It looked tender to the touch. 

“Does it hurt?” Illumi asked. The bus was in sight. 

“Kind of,” Hisoka said. Illumi could feel him swallow. 

“I’m gonna put you down outside the bus. You can hop inside, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

Illumi was ginger when he set Hisoka down, careful to ease him onto his good leg. Hisoka dug his hand into Illumi’s shoulder to steady himself, sighing a little, at the sight of the steep bus steps and at the thought of hopping all the way to the back row. 

“Take your time,” Illumi whispered. The rain howled against the side of the bus. 

“What’d you say?” Hisoka asked, nearly at the top of the steps. 

“Nothing.” 

Hisoka made painfully slow progress towards the back of the bus. Every eye was on him and Illumi could tell that he hated it. His ears were bright red and he kept ducking his head, gaze flitting side to side in order to avoid proper eye-contact. 

When he finally reached the back row, Illumi slipped into the window seat before he could sit down, pressing himself up against the side so that Hisoka had three seats to stretch out. 

He sat down awkwardly, holding his leg up gingerly.

“Can someone give this to Hisoka?” Coach asked loudly from the front. A roll of ace bandage was tossed towards the back. A freshman caught it and tossed it to Illumi, who eyed it skeptically. 

“You know how to wrap with this?” He asked. Hisoka shook his head. Everything about him was somber: hair plastered to his skull, shoulders shaking from the cold, posture hunched and defensive. It was clear he had cried at some point, because his eyes were red and a little puffy, and his lashes were clumped together. 

“Let me, then,” Illumi said. 

“You know how?” 

“‘Course.” Illumi brushed off the rubber nubs of turf stuck to Hisoka’s knee and then pressed a hand just above the swelling, right at his upper thigh. His skin was cold to the touch. 

_ Circulation _ , Illumi thought.

“Tell me if it’s too tight.” Illumi started at the upper thigh, wrapping the thick, stretchy bandage twice around, and then began to loop around the back and front of Hisoka’s knee, creating a little diamond right over his kneecap. 

“This’ll be good for when you sleep,” Illumi said. “It won’t let you move your knee around too much and hurt yourself.” Illumi finished wrapping and let Hisoka slowly shift his knee so that it was resting lengthwise on the row of seats. 

“You can--” Illumi hesitated. Hisoka wasn’t looking at him, eyes fixed on the flecked carpeted floor. 

“You can put your head on my lap, if you want to sleep.” There was a painful moment of silence.

“No, that’s okay,” Hisoka rasped. 

“Okay.” Illumi could feel his throat closing, could feel the horrible buildup to tears beginning. 

“Hisoka,” Coach said, making his way towards them. He squatted so that he was eye-level, more or less, and then patted Hisoka’s good knee. 

“How’s it feel?” 

“It’s okay.” 

“Have you spoken to your college coach yet, just to let them know?” 

“Not yet,” Hisoka said, sounding miserable. 

“Let them know you’re injured tonight and tell them you’re getting an MRI to see if it’s an ACL tear or not. Trainer is hopeful it isn’t, because it’s causing you pain, and with ACL tears, you usually can’t, but the pain could also be coming from…” He trailed off at the sight of Hisoka’s wide eyes. 

“If it’s--am I going to lose my scholarship? If I can’t play right away?” 

“No,” Coach assured him quickly. Illumi pressed himself as hard as he could against the window. The cold was seeping into the glass, and that, combined with the growing nausea in the pit of his stomach, was making him wish it could be Ski Weekend again, and that he and Hisoka were hungover in bed about to kiss for the first time. 

“I’ll let you rest. Tomorrow, one of the athletic trainers is going to take you to get an MRI to see what the deal is.” 

“Alright.” 

“Chin up!” 

* * *

The drive back, Coach informed them, would take an hour longer than the way there, on account of the heavy rain. 

The bus filled with groans. 

“But!” Coach said, holding up a finger and wagging it. “We will stop at Dunkin for the win!” 

The groans stopped almost immediately.

Hisoka was still insistent on maintaining a foot of distance between himself and Illumi. He switched absently from playing Angry Birds on his phone to watching his usual cake-decorating videos on Youtube. Every time the bus jostled particularly hard, Illumi would hear him wince. He seemed tired, bone-deep tired, eyes drooping, head lolling onto his own shoulder every few minutes, like all it would take was a decently strong wind to send him toppling like an unmoored scarecrow. 

It only took twenty minutes for Hisoka to decide that his physical comfort mattered more than preserving the tension that was between him and Illumi. Without warning, he turned on his side, carefully propping his injured knee on top of his good one. He glanced at Illumi’s open lap--Illumi had changed into sweatpants since the game, throwing his wet shorts into a pile with a few other uniforms in the corner of the bus. 

“You said I could, right?” Hisoka asked. He was looking up at Illumi through still-wet feathered lashes. 

“Oh,” Illumi said, realizing quickly. “Oh, yes.” Hisoka laid his head on Illumi’s thigh and sighed. Illumi could feel it, the hot puff of breath through his sweatpants. He wanted to put his hand in Hisoka’s hair, but he felt that would be inappropriate, so he propped his elbow on Hisoka’s shoulder and scrolled through his phone, trying to slow down the rapid staccato of his heartbeat. 

When it looked like Hisoka was close to sleeping, Illumi carefully reached down into the extra bag he brought and pulled out two blankets: the first, he threw over Hisoka; the second, he balled up and put between his cheek and the bus window. 

In the front of the bus, Chrollo was debating the use of “willful ignorance” in a court of law. His voice kept rising, colored by excitement, but it wasn’t disruptive. 

It was comforting to know that at least some people weren’t flailing uncontrollably, heart in their throat, wishing they had had more experience with having friends because it was a little too late to start learning now. 

Illumi glanced down at Hisoka. It had been a long time since they had been so wary of each other like this. He was properly sleeping now, mouth half-parted, cheek squished against Illumi's thigh. He was at his best when he slept, Illumi thought a little dryly.

Quiet and lovely. 

The bus took one of the highway exits, careening to one side. Hisoka shifted, unthinkingly bending his knee a bit too far. He made a sound in his sleep and his eyelids fluttered, but Illumi gently returned his knee to the same angle and he quieted immediately.

Chrollo’s voice rose up from the front again. 

“Willful blindness isn’t paradoxical, actually, and I’ll tell you why…” 

* * *

Hisoka woke up to an empty bus. For a very brief moment, he thought he was dreaming, stuck in some weird abandonment nightmare that his subconscious had manifested. 

And then he peered out the window and saw the orange Dunkin sign and he felt the dull throb of his bandaged knee. 

Real life, then. 

The team returned to the bus in staggered groups, with Illumi, Chrollo, and two other seniors being the first to come back. Illumi hoisted a very full white paper bag above Chrollo’s head and marched to the back of the bus. In his other hand, he was balancing an orange and white box, and a tray of hot drinks. 

“Oh,” he said, blinking, “you’re awake.” 

“Did I sleep for very long?” 

“An hour and a half,” Illumi said with a shrug. “I brought donuts,” he added, “and I got you a latte thing that’s apparently very sweet.” Illumi awkwardly set the bag and the tray of drinks in Hisoka’s lap. 

“What’s in the box?” 

“Munchkins, I think.” 

“The little round ones?” 

“Yes.” 

“I like those.” 

“I figured you would.” 

Illumi crawled over him to get to his spot, precariously balancing the remaining food in his hands, and then settled with a sigh. 

He watched Hisoka crack open the box and tenderly bite halfway into a donut hole. 

“Good,” he said after a moment, eyes closed. Illumi reached over and tried one, putting the whole thing in his mouth. He saw Hisoka smile at the puff of his cheeks, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone. 

They worked their way through half the box of donut holes and had a donut each. Illumi consolidated the bag and the box together and set it aside. Hisoka sipped his drink and stared out the window. He looked tired again, but a good kind of tired, the kind that sleep would fix. 

* * *

The bus arrived on campus at nearly six in the evening. Hisoka and Illumi were the last to leave, with Hisoka hobbling down the steps like a lame horse. A car from the infirmary was idling at the curb, waiting to take Hisoka straight to his dorm. 

“Are you with him, dear?” The woman driving the car asked Illumi. 

“Um,” Illumi began as Hisoka ducked his head. “Yes,” he decided. 

* * *

“I’m gonna shower,” Hisoka mumbled as soon as they reached his room. 

“Do you need help?” 

“No.” 

Illumi watched Hisoka hobble into the bathroom and then he heard the shower splutter on. 

Fifteen minutes passed and Illumi began to grow suspicious. With a sigh, he heaved himself up off the couch, frowning a little as he swayed with lightheadedness, and then walked towards the bathroom. 

“Hisoka?” He asked, knocking gently. 

_ “What?” _

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Illumi.” 

“Are you sure? I’m going to come in.” 

“You don’t need to--” Illumi opened the door. 

As he did, he was struck with an almost hilarious sense of deja vu. 

Like he himself did, months ago, Hisoka tried to cover himself up at first, only to realize that there was nothing for him to hide. Nothing, at least, that Illumi hadn’t already seen.

“Do you need something?”

“You’ve been in here for a long time.” 

“I’m cold, I just don’t want to get out. Can you close the door? You’re letting out the steam.” Illumi closed the door behind himself and then sat on the closed toilet seat. 

Hisoka sighed. 

“You’re still mad at me,” Illumi said, “but I don’t know why.” Hisoka rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and got started on the conditioner. Through the fogged-up glass of the shower door, his expression was hard to read, but Illumi got the sense it was mocking. 

He felt like it was September again, and Hisoka was asking him why he was wearing a turtleneck in the library. 

“If you don’t know why then that’s your problem,” Hisoka finally said. 

“Can’t you just tell me?” 

“This is embarrassing for you, Illumi. Have you not had any friends before?” 

“I have siblings.” 

Hisoka sighed and cranked the heat up on the shower. 

“You’re beyond help,” and it was something he said often to Illumi, but usually, it was in a fond, teasing tone, half false-exasperation, half overwhelming warmth. 

This time, it was very cold and serious. 

“Can you just let me shower?” Hisoka asked. The tremble in his voice was just audible. Illumi stood up from the toilet, tugged along as if by puppet strings, and left the bathroom. 

He listened by the door, though for what, he wasn’t sure. But, all he could hear was the patter of the shower. 

* * *

Hisoka finally emerged another ten minutes later. His knee was still bent carefully and he had to hop, one-footed, to his closet to grab a pair of plaid pajama pants and a sweatshirt that he hadn’t played lacrosse in. 

And then he sat on his bed and let his head flop back onto the pillow, gaze fixed on the ceiling. 

When Illumi finally gathered up the courage to look at Hisoka properly, he was surprised to find him crying. 

He had never seen Hisoka cry before.

Big, wet tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and then dripped down his cheeks, as silent as an old film. He rubbed at them as subtly as possible but it was too late, Illumi had already seen. 

“Why are you crying?” Illumi whispered. 

“Dunno,” Hisoka said with an angry sniffle. 

“Is it because of your knee?” 

“It’s not because of my fucking knee, Illumi.” Hisoka’s gaze wrenched upwards and even though his eyes were bright and teary, his expression was cold. 

“I don’t even--” 

“You’re an asshole,” Hisoka interrupted sharply. He wiped his eyes with the heels of his palms very roughly, rubbing until the surrounding skin was a little red. 

“You didn’t need--” Hisoka paused, lower lip trembling. “You didn’t need to make it seem like I was so obsessed with you, you know. I was just  _ asking if you were okay _ .” The last part came out in a hiss. 

“I know.” 

“And for some reason, you just decided to be an asshole about it. I’m not fucking Chrollo, Illumi. You can’t be a bitch to me and expect me to--” 

“I know you’re not Chrollo.” 

“Let me finish,” Hisoka seethed. “You act like I’m some terrible person because I like to have fun sometimes, but you’re the one who’s actually terrible. If someone asks if you’re okay because you look like shit, you don’t need to get angry.” 

“Okay.” 

“You don’t need to make it seem like I’m embarrassing myself, that I’m obsessed with you. I’m not part of your fanclub. I’m not Chrollo.” 

“Okay.” 

“If you want someone who you can walk all over, then go fucking fuck Chrollo.” Hisoka’s fingernails were digging into his mattress, shoulders hunched in a strange, defensive way. 

“You need to be nice to me, Illumi.” 

“Okay.” 

“That’s how you make friends, that’s how you keep friends.” 

“Okay.” 

“It’s not enough to be handsome and rich and good at things, at some point, you need to--” 

“I get it, Hisoka,” Illumi said quietly, wearily. Hisoka sighed, leaning back against the pillow of his bed, scrubbing at his eyes once more. For a moment, it almost seemed as if the hostility passed. Hisoka’s body deflated like a poorly-tied balloon, the strands of too-long hair he tucked behind his ears coming to graze his cheeks. Illumi stood in the center of Hisoka’s room like he had been put there and told to stay. The toe of his left foot tapped absently at the heel of his right. 

“Can you leave?” Hisoka asked suddenly, hoarsely.

“Why?” 

“You’re pissing me off.” 

“You can’t just kick me out,” Illumi said indignantly. Hisoka's head swung over to look at him. He had viciously golden eyes, the eyes of an animal. They narrowed and darkened. 

“It’s my room. Get out.” 

“We didn’t solve anything, you’re still angry. We should--” Illumi broke off at the sight of Hisoka’s smile. He hadn’t smiled at Illumi like that in a while: wickedly. 

“You’re so obsessed with me, Illumi.” 

Illumi faltered in the doorway. He looked confused, unsure what to say and how to say it. 

“I don’t--” Illumi cut himself off for a second time, fists clenching where they were buried in his jacket pockets. Hisoka was still smiling at him, eyes rimmed in red from his crying spell earlier. 

“Fine,” Illumi said. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. When he glanced back at Hisoka, he saw that he was staring back at the ceiling again, and his smile was gone and his eyes were welling. 

“I hope you’re crippled for life,” Illumi spat. Hisoka laughed humorlessly. 

“Lovely, Illumi.” 

Illumi wrenched the door open and then slammed it shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading and as always, comments are so so appreciated! 
> 
> you can probably expect a week before the next update? If any of you were curious 
> 
> until the next update, peace out!


	11. A Stack of Sandwiches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some good old-fashioned conflict resolution!

Monday morning and Hisoka wasn’t in English class. 

At first, Illumi had been relieved. 

He had fallen asleep last night in anxiety-ridden fits, stomach in knots, his lower back sweating as if he was ill. 

It was strange, this fight of theirs. They had fought many times before, but this one was heavy with finality. Illumi had never felt like he had lost Hisoka before, not until now, and it was a palpable sensation, like a death in the family. 

“Hey,” Chrollo said, the first one to acknowledge him when he walked into English class. Illumi dropped into the seat next to him and gave him a brief nod. 

Machi peered around Chrollo and looked Illumi up and down, brows furrowed. 

“You look like shit.” 

“I always look like this,” Illumi said dully. But, Machi was right. His mother had said the same thing last night. 

_ You look unwell. Are you eating enough healthy fats? You should take some b-12 supplements. Is your homework done? Go to sleep.  _

“Leave him alone,” Chrollo said to Machi with feigned casualness. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out to Illumi and cradle his hand. 

Their teacher arrived, frowned at Hisoka’s absence, and then she slammed the book they were reading onto the table and grinned like she was about to commit evil. 

* * *

“Chrollo,” Hisoka said weakly through the phone. 

“Yes?” Chrollo asked warily. He was stopped at the outside of the humanities building, one foot on the path, the other half in the planter. A pair of sophomore girls walked by and he smiled at them. 

“Can you bring me food? I can’t walk.” 

“Hiso--” 

“And I would ask Illumi but we’re in a fight.” Hisoka’s voice was uncharacteristically flat, like the life had been sucked out of it by a vacuum. 

“Why don’t you ask your other friends? Like Machi or--” 

“I can’t ask a  _ girl  _ to bring me food! That’s, like, super misogynistic.” 

“You’re right,” Chrollo said, eyes widening in realization. “Okay, I’ll grab some food from the dining hall. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” 

* * *

Chrollo opened Hisoka’s door with his foot, staggering in with an armful of food. 

“I didn’t know how much you needed.” 

“You’re actually pretty nice, Chrollo.” 

Big, wet eyes glared at him from over a stack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. 

“I  _ am  _ nice.” Before Hisoka could say anything more, Chrollo dumped his bounty on Hisoka’s desk, clearing away the loose papers and pencils and delicately moving his laptop to his bedside table. 

“You guys are still fighting?” Chrollo asked, taking one sandwich for himself and handing Hisoka another. They sat on the floor: Chrollo cross-legged and Hisoka with his injured leg stretched out. 

“Just since yesterday,” Hisoka said, a little indignant. 

“Yeah, but I thought that after your… you know, your knee, you guys would be over it.” Hisoka smiled dryly.

“I think I could get hit by a bus and Illumi would still find a way to be mad at me.” 

Chrollo licked grape jelly off his finger and observed Hisoka with an acute gaze.

“You look sick.” 

He wasn’t necessarily wrong. Hisoka’s eyes were rimmed in red, and bleary, like he had woken up from a nap. His cheeks were ruddy and the skin under his eyes were dark gray. He moved slowly, shakily, and even though the heater was jacked up to the highest setting, he seemed cold, hunching into his sweatshirt to seek more warmth. 

“I think it’s just a head cold,” Hisoka said, sniffling into the back of his forearm. “From sitting in the rain.” 

“You’re sort of a mess right now.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Maybe I should just break up with him,” Hisoka mused, chin tipping up to the ceiling. “He would be so mad at me.” Hisoka laughed lightly at the thought, but he found with growing dismay that the thought wasn’t actually all that satisfying. In fact, he felt awful just saying it. 

“Whatever you think is best,” Chrollo said solemnly. Hisoka’s gaze narrowed and then his expression broke into a sick grin.

“You bastard! You just want to be his rebound, which you won’t, by the way, because I’m not actually gonna break up with him.” A slightly saccharine sense of possession filled Hisoka’s chest, which was strange, because it was sidled right up against a swelling pit of resentment, both with Illumi’s name on it. 

“Whatever,” Chrollo said, leaning back onto his palms. 

“He expects me to apologize first,” Hisoka spat suddenly, clutching his sandwich so tightly that the peanut butter was gushing out. 

“Should you?” 

“No.” 

“He’d probably say the same thing.” 

“‘Cause he’s stupid.” There was a pause. “Clinically.” 

“Illumi’s really smart, actually,” Chrollo breathed. “He does a lot of thinking, more than I think you expect of him.” 

“I know what he’s like, thanks Chro.” 

“I’m just saying.” 

“I know you’re just saying, I also know that you’re fucking obsessed with my boyfriend.” 

“I’m not obsessed,” Chrollo said defensively. Hisoka’s eyes closed and he winced, easing himself back onto his pillows gingerly. 

“You should call the infirmary,” Chrollo added, eyeing Hisoka as he used a trembling hand to pull his covers up. 

“Just a cold,” Hisoka mumbled. 

“Maybe you’re sick because you’re sad.” 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Hisoka said, but as he did, his eyes slid open, glimmering with emotion. 

“Sometimes I wonder if he even likes me. I feel like a middle school girl.” 

“He probably doesn’t like you. Your whole relationship is a lie.” 

“Thank you, Chrollo,” Hisoka said flatly. 

“I have to go to class.” Chrollo stood up, clutching his bag against his chest and regarding Hisoka with his big, gray-ish eyes that swam all the time with intensity.

“I hope you do terribly,” Hisoka added sourly. 

“Hisoka, I was being serious about the infirmary. Do you have their phone number?” Hisoka’s head lolled to look properly at him. 

Chrollo was a confusing person. He was callous and manipulative and whiny and thought he was much smarter than he actually was, but he was also a very good friend to the people he cared about. He and Hisoka had never got on, and Hisoka suspected that if given the chance, Chrollo would probably take the opportunity to smother him to death with a pillow. 

But, he cared for his circle of people, cared for them with an oddly maternal intensity, and somehow, over the course of this year, he had been roped into that circle, unwittingly on both of their parts.

“Why would I have the infirmary phone number?” Hisoka demanded. Chrollo took Hisoka’s phone with a heavy sigh and started typing in the contact. 

“Call them if you start to feel dizzy, okay? Bastard.” 

“Okay.” 

“And you need water. Where are your cups?” 

Hisoka pointed to a stack of mugs on one of his shelves. Chrollo grabbed a misshapen one and frowned at it. 

“Gon made it for me,” Hisoka explained. 

“That’s weird.” 

“He genuinely thinks I’m the best lacrosse player in the world.” Chrollo snorted and disappeared into Hisoka’s bathroom. 

“You have a floral bath mat,” he noticed, shouting a bit to be heard over the faucet. 

“I thought it looked nice.” 

Chrollo reemerged with the mug and set it down on Hisoka’s side table. 

“Okay, that’s enough kindness for today. Bye, Hisoka.” 

“Thanks for the food.” Chrollo did a funny, awkward wave and then shut Hisoka’s door. As soon as he was gone, the smile Hisoka had on his face fell off. His chest ached like he had been kicked there. 

He didn’t know why he was so sad, why he felt pathetic, why he felt the loneliest he had ever been, lonelier than his fourteenth birthday in a new foster home with nothing but a backpack held between his knees. Hisoka shifted in bed, turning his face to the window. 

Outside, a pair of girls were trotting across the main field, crushing the wet, dewy grass underfoot, laughing in the slightly chilly spring morning. 

Hisoka’s knee began to throb viciously and he returned to lying on his back, eyes drifting closed even as a headache pounded his temples and dried his mouth.

* * *

Illumi suspected that maybe Hisoka had slept through his first class, but would be found lurking in the dining hall with a bagel in his sweatshirt pocket. 

“Has anyone seen Hisoka?” Illumi asked. The table in front of him all gave him the same concerned look. 

“Why are you looking for him?” Feitan asked. 

“He missed our first period,” Chrollo said, licking his finger and turning the page on his book. 

“I haven’t,” Shizuku said. Phinks made an agreeing noise. 

Pakunoda, who was putting stickers on her laptop with laser-like focus, looked up and smiled sympathetically. 

“Boyfriend troubles?” 

Phinks and Feitan both snorted. 

“No,” Illumi scowled. 

“Because that’s understandable,” Pakunoda went on. “I mean, it is  _ Hisoka _ .” Illumi’s mouth twitched with resentment.

“I’m just looking for him, that’s all.” 

“He probably slept through class,” Shizuku said, pragmatic as ever. Pakunoda tapped her shoulder and held up two almost identical-looking Glossier stickers. 

“Which one?” 

“This one.” 

“Thanks, dear.” 

“Okay,” Illumi said, the only one still standing at the table. “I’ll go to his room after class, then.” 

“Good luck,” Shizuku called. 

* * *

After a full day without Hisoka, Illumi was starting to feel his absence terribly. It was embarrassing, but he felt it in his torso like a hole had been cut out of it. 

He went to his room as soon as his last period was let out and knocked three times on his door. 

“Hello?” He called. 

Silence.

“Hisoka?” 

Nothing.

“I’m going to come in.” 

Hisoka somehow looked very small in his twin-sized bed, curled up with one knee tucked into his chest and the other awkwardly splayed out. His hair was unstyled, and damp, like he had recently crawled out of the shower. Illumi had the sudden urge to blow-dry it, until it was fluffy and soft and fell over his eyes like a sheepdog. 

“Hi,” Illumi said. 

“Go away,” Hisoka rasped. His eyes were very glazed over. Illumi had seen this look on him during sex and after writing very difficult essays, but this time, they were stricken, too. Sad eyes. 

“Come one, you’ve missed class.” Illumi approached the bed, stopping when Hisoka flinched. 

“I’m sorry I got angry with you yesterday,” he added. Hisoka’s gaze flitted upwards to look Illumi in the eyes. Illumi was tempted to shy away. He looked awful: exhausted and heartbroken. 

“I have to go to my MRI,” Hisoka muttered. 

“I can take you,” Illumi said quickly. He squatted beside the bed and then gingerly reached out and stroked his hair, combing through the tangled bits with his fingers. 

“I’ll call my driver. He’ll take us.” 

“I hate you,” Hisoka said. It was something he said all the time, laughingly in the dining hall, slightly more seriously after lacrosse practice. It sounded very serious now, his voice cracking in a way that made Illumi jolt. 

“That’s okay,” Illumi said. He really meant it, too. Killua said that to him all the time, for no reason. 

“I’ll get you clothes.” Hisoka was only in boxer briefs. A t-shirt and pajama pants were on the floor, twisted and crumpled, but Illumi didn’t bother with those. 

Hisoka’s skin was goose-bumped and when Illumi brushed his hand again through his hair, he felt his ear with the heel of his palm and found it to be freezing. 

Hisoka’s closet was impressively organized. Everything was folded and had a home. 

Illumi grabbed a pair of dark green Belmont sweatpants and a black sweatshirt that Illumi was pretty sure belonged to Chrollo. It had the picture of a breakfast place on the back that was apparently located in Chrollo’s hometown.

_ Thanks for supporting us!  _ It read underneath the picture of the little cafe. 

Illumi tossed both items on the bed and went back into the closet to find socks and shoes. 

He found a pair of battered black Birkenstocks and thick woolen socks to wear with them. He was dressing Hisoka a bit like a hippie, but he didn’t think Hisoka was in the state to care. 

“Here’s your--” Illumi sighed. Hisoka looked up at him through feathered lashes. The clothes Illumi had set out were still folded and untouched. 

“Come on,” Illumi said, mostly to himself. He took the pants first, pulling the covers away from Hisoka’s body, which trembled slightly in the cool air. 

“You’re going to get sick, if you aren’t already.” Illumi was pretty sure that the latter was true. Hisoka’s skin was emanating heat, even though his extremities felt icy.

“I don’t care.” 

“I do,” Illumi said, carefully lifting Hisoka’s injured leg by the ankle and pulling his sweatpants on. The other leg was easier; it required less care and Hisoka rolled onto his back and lifted his hips when Illumi asked him to. 

“Okay,” Illumi said to himself, a little breathless. Hisoka was glaring at him with dull hate. 

“I said I was sorry,” Illumi whispered. “I meant it, too. I am sorry.” There was a pause.

“Will you say something?” 

“You’re a shit boyfriend,” Hisoka said finally, voice as rough as concrete. Illumi felt his throat tighten. 

“I know.” He wanted to say,  _ but you aren’t a good one either.  _ But then, that wasn’t exactly true. Hisoka teased him plenty, but he was caring. He didn’t make Illumi do things he really didn’t want to do. He went with him to the dining hall and sat there, even if he’d already had dinner, just so Illumi wouldn’t be alone. 

He helped him with homework, going so far as teaching himself a lesson ahead of time, just in case Illumi needed him. 

And now he was staring up at Illumi with an almost unbearable expression of hurt, and his knee was bent awkwardly, and it was clear he hadn’t slept well because his eyes were not only rimmed in red, but underlined with swaths of gray. 

Illumi kicked his shoes off, slowly, telegraphing his movements in case Hisoka wanted to protest. He crawled carefully over Hisoka’s body to the side of the bed he slept on during the Blizzard. 

“I’m sorry,” Illumi said with a shaky exhale. He wasn’t really used to apologizing. He did it to his parents, but that was with a gun to his head, muttered out after a severe argument, or gasped out after feeling the sting of his father’s hand against his cheek. 

“I know you are,” Hisoka said tiredly. His body was so warm it was almost uncomfortable.

“What time is your appointment?” Illumi asked gently. 

“Four.” 

“We have an hour and a half then,” he said. “I’ll call the car in forty-five minutes.” He set a timer on his phone. Hisoka grunted in reply. 

Illumi glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and though he still looked unwell, he didn’t look quite so fiercely distraught. 

So, slowly, Illumi wrapped an arm around Hisoka’s waist, the smallest thing about him, and pulled his body against and on top of himself. 

“ _ I’m sorry,”  _ Illumi mumbled against his hair. 

_ “S’okay,”  _ Hisoka replied against his throat. He was heavy on Illumi’s body, and his skin felt cold now, clammy, but Illumi hardly noticed. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief--not even the tickle of Hisoka’s breath against his skin could bother him. 

“I don’t know why I get mad about those things,” Illumi said. 

“It’s dumb.” 

“I know.” 

“Still, I shouldn’t have pressed,” Hisoka said reluctantly.

Illumi’s fingers had found a spot in Hisoka’s hair, stroking the front bangs in gentle curling motions. 

“My eating hasn’t been very good,” Illumi admitted. 

“I’ve noticed.” 

“I’ve been trying to bulk up for lacrosse, but eating that much just makes me feel nauseous.” 

“You don’t need to force yourself,” Hisoka said. Illumi huffed. 

“I know. It’s just--” Illumi sighed, glaring up at the ceiling. “My mom doesn’t want me bulking up and she’s always home, so I have to eat at school whenever I can, but that’s difficult, and it’s usually when I’m not even hungry.” 

“Your mom is very controlling,” Hisoka noted. He saw Illumi frown. 

“She loves me.” 

“You have a twisted idea of love, I think.” 

They made eye-contact with each other. Hisoka could see in the flicker of Illumi’s eyes that he had frightened him with that word: love. 

For a few breaths longer, they stayed like that, eyes against eyes, unblinking.

Illumi eventually broke the spell when he reached down and unfolded the blanket laid out at the foot of Hisoka’s bed. It was big enough that when unfurled, it covered them both comfortably. 

“Not everything is my parents, Hisoka,” he said finally. 

“I guess,” but Hisoka sounded doubtful.

Illumi suddenly shifted in bed, scooting himself up higher and pushing Hisoka down lower, so that his head was resting on Illumi’s stomach. From this vantage, it was easy to stroke through Hisoka’s hair again. He had such soft hair, so feathery and fine, like the down of a baby bird. It had dried amazingly fast, much faster than Illumi’s ever could.

“How’s your knee?” Illumi asked. 

“Hurts,” Hisoka admitted. 

“I tried to injure that number eleven when I was put back in,” Illumi said, nose wrinkling. Hisoka laughed in a deep, warm vibrato. 

“I know, Coach was pissed that you kept drifting halfway up the field.” 

“I wanted to break his ankle,” Illumi mused. 

“You’re terrible.”

Illumi shrugged. 

Hisoka let out a content sighing sound, sinking even further into Illumi’s side. 

“I was so upset with you that I willingly sat next to Chrollo and spoke with him.” 

“I cannot imagine.” 

Hisoka laughed, a weak shaking laugh that rumbled through his whole body. 

“And I called him, today. He came to my room and brought me food. It was nice.” 

“He’s nice,” Illumi agreed, holding Hisoka a little tighter to his body. 

“We talked about you,” Hisoka went on. He didn’t know why he was talking so much, why he couldn’t stop himself. It felt as if he hadn’t spoken to Illumi in weeks and weeks. “I cried when he left.”  _ Damn it.  _ Hisoka swallowed down a regret-shaped lump in his throat. 

“You’re a pretty crier,” Illumi added. Hisoka snorted against his t-shirt, feeling his cheeks bloom red. 

“I’m always pretty. I’m the pretty one and you’re the bug one.” 

“Yeah,” Illumi agreed. 

* * *

Four days later, Hisoka received a call just before the end of lunch. 

“Hello?” He asked, holding a finger up, asking his table for silence. Illumi stopped chewing a mouthful of teriyaki and waited, mouth full, eyes wide. 

_ Doctor,  _ he mouthed to the table. Chrollo and Illumi glanced at each other. 

“Okay,” Hisoka said softly. “That’s good, right?” 

“Hisoka--” Illumi started. Chrollo hit him and he fell silent. 

“You said, um, yeah--I just need to write this down for my coach. You said partial MCL tear? Okay. How long does it--” Hisoka’s brow furrowed. The hand holding the pen was trembling. 

“Okay, how long is recovery time? Roughly?” 

“Sorry, you said… two to four weeks?”

Illumi and Chrollo both went limp with relief. Hisoka was nodding and smiling in a small hopeful way. 

“Thank you, thanks so much. Okay, have a nice day.” He hung up and then slumped backward into his seat, smiling dazedly. 

“Partial tear,” he breathed. 

“That’s why you heard a popping sound when it happened,” Chrollo said, sounding very matter of fact. 

“Yes, Chrollo.” 

“The injury happened five days ago,” Shizuku added, counting on her fingers, “so you will actually be able to play soon.” 

“It’s good news,” Illumi said, feeling his whole chest flutter with happiness. 

Hisoka looked at him, only him, a giddy smile on his mouth. Machi said something and the volume of her voice felt like an intrusion, like the entire dining hall was the space between their eyes. 

Two to four weeks and Hisoka would be back on the field again, laughing after an impressively hard check, fake-moaning Illumi’s name during warmups, just to make the younger players laugh, shooting down the field, not even looking in Illumi’s direction because he knew the ball was going to him anyway, the master attacker and the master transitioner. 

Two to four weeks and he and Hisoka would be back on the turf, sun beating down on their shoulders, toes curling inside their cleats, a wide stretch of green in front of them, waiting to be conquered. 

Hisoka was staring at him, mouth still turned up at the ends. Chrollo was inspecting Hisoka’s knee like a doctor, gently squeezing his kneecap through the brace and murmuring things to himself. 

_ All was well.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! sorry for the short chapter but i figured an update was needed sometime soon 
> 
> as always, comments fuel me and i have a twitter!! follow me!! https://twitter.com/ohofcourses
> 
> until next time, peace!


	12. A Friday Morning

“Are you ready?” Illumi asked, his nose nearly touching Hisoka’s cheek. Hisoka nodded. 

“It’ll hurt,” Illumi warned. Hisoka snorted. 

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to handle it, Illumi.” 

“Okay.” Illumi pressed the apple slice behind Hisoka’s earlobe. It was pretty silly, but Hisoka had nice ears, slightly pointed at the ends, elvish, almost. Illumi ran the needle once more through the little candle flame, shook it out to cool, and then pressed the point against the little black marker dot on Hisoka’s earlobe. 

“Ready?” 

“You already asked me-- _ ow!”  _ Illumi had jammed the needle through. It made a slightly unpleasant ripping sound, and then it was in and Hisoka had relaxed. 

“You’re evil,” Hisoka said. 

“It’s easier that way, when you aren’t expecting it,” Illumi replied, twisting the needle in order to widen the hole. 

“This is so delinquent of you, Illumi.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Okay, I think we can put the earring in.” 

“One second.” Illumi had stolen the earrings from Kikyo. It wasn’t like she was going to notice. They were a little pair of solid gold heart-shaped studs, small enough to be appropriate for a starter earring. And the pure gold meant Hisoka’s ears wouldn’t get infected quite as easily. 

“These are cute,” Hisoka said, picking up one of the studs and inspecting it. Illumi took it from his hand and pulled off the backing. 

Very carefully, he pulled out the needle, discarded the apple slice, and pushed the earring in. Hisoka hissed, nose scrunching as the freshly-punctured hole was worried at. 

But, Illumi was deft. He got the earring in quickly. 

“It looks nice,” Illumi said proudly. 

“You think?” Hisoka asked, turning his head to see it in the mirror. His earlobe was red and there was a little bit of blood welling up around the gold heart. Illumi was tempted to lick at it. 

“Yeah.” Hisoka’s head turned back and suddenly he and Illumi were nearly nose to nose. Illumi’s big black eyes were as wide and as impassive as a cow’s. Hisoka pecked him once on the lips. 

“Next ear, let’s go.” 

Before they could start, there was a knock on Hisoka’s door. 

“Machi,” Hisoka said, standing up and swinging the door open. It was indeed Machi, with Chrollo and Pakunoda standing beside, peering curiously into Hisoka’s room. 

“You’re right,” Paku said, “It’s  _ really  _ clean.” 

“We’re piercing Hisoka’s ears,” Illumi said. 

“Couldn’t you just… go to Claire’s?” Machi asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“This is more fun.” 

“He likes to inflict pain on me.” Illumi said nothing to defend himself. 

Machi sat down next to Hisoka on the bed. Paku and Chrollo took the floor, sprawling out with their limbs thrown on top of each other. 

“Hisoka, do you have a speaker?” Machi asked. Illumi wordlessly reached for a shelf and turned on Hisoka’s bluetooth speaker, tossing it to Machi so she could connect it. 

A moment later, music filled the room. 

“Illumi, come on,” Hisoka said, gesturing to his other ear. 

“Did it hurt? The first one?” 

“Not really,” Hisoka said. 

“C’mere,” Illumi said, tugging Hisoka towards him on the bed by the arm.

“Ready?” He asked, pressing a new needle to a drawn-on dot on Hisoka’s ear. 

“Mhm,” Hisoka said, one eye closing in preparation. 

“One, two--”

“You better go on three.” 

“I am.” 

“You were going to go on four,” Hisoka said sourly. Illumi felt his mouth twitch. He was right. 

“You don’t need to distract me,” Hisoka added. 

“You guys are cute,” Machi said, scrolling through music on her phone. 

“Thank you,” Illumi said sincerely. Hisoka rolled his eyes. 

“Come on.” 

“I’ll distract him,” Paku volunteered, sitting up on her knees and half-crawling until she was sitting in front of Hisoka. Her mouth was quirked up in a smile. 

Ever since her disastrously drunk night during Long Weekend, she had been very bright-eyed and friendly. 

“You better not snap your fingers in my face,” Hisoka said. 

“Ready?” Paku asked. She glanced at Illumi, who nodded. 

“One,” she began, “two,” she fingered the hem of her sweatshirt, “three!” Hisoka flinched as the needle punched through his ear, and as Paku lifted her sweatshirt up to her chin. 

Hisoka’s eyes went wide. 

Machi looked up from her phone and smiled to herself. 

“ _ Paku,”  _ Chrollo said, looking affronted. The needle was through Hisoka’s ear, left there, as Illumi and Hisoka both stared at Paku’s exposed chest. 

“Did it work?” She asked, pulling her sweatshirt down. 

“Um,” Illumi began. 

“Evidently,” Machi said, glancing sideways at Hisoka’s red face. Paku was unbothered by it. She inspected the stud that was already in, lips pursed. 

“The heart is nice.” 

“He’s going to do a second piercing after this one heels, right here,” and Hisoka pointed to a bit of earlobe just above the stud, “and I’m going to put a really small hoop there.” 

“That’ll look nice,” she agreed. Hisoka, if possible, turned even redder. Illumi took the second stud and replaced the needle with it, rubbing the skin around his ear to ease the pain and redness. 

“They suit you,” Machi said. 

“Illumi, you should get one,” Chrollo said. He fingered his own cartilage. “Right here. It would look cool.” 

“My parents wouldn’t like that.” 

“You’re eighteen.” 

“They wouldn’t like it,” Illumi said tersely. Machi and Paku shared a glance. 

Hisoka came to the rescue. 

“Illumi couldn’t pull piercings off,” he said, leaning back onto his elbows. He cocked his head, letting the gold catch the light. 

“Not everyone has ears like mine.” 

Chrollo scoffed and the tension bled out of the room. 

* * *

“Illumi!” After the first week, Hisoka’s knee injury and his overall mood had improved exponentially. He had to wear a knee brace to help himself heal, but he had discovered early on that he could run and skip and jump pretty well with it on. 

Which was what he was doing now. 

“Stop running,” Illumi said, not looking up from his book. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka said again, plopping down on the chair across from him. 

“If you don’t answer me, I’m going to yell.” 

“One,” Hisoka said. “Two, Three--ILLUMI!” A dozen heads turned and stared at the pair of them. Illumi clapped his book closed and glared. 

“You are so annoying.” 

“Illumi,” Hisoka said for the third time, “I want to have sex.” 

“You couldn’t have texted me this?” Illumi asked. 

“I want to have real sex--actual sex.” The book, which had been opened a moment ago, closed again. 

“Your knee,” Illumi said warily. 

“Aw, you’ll be gentle, won’t you?” Illumi’s cheeks burned a bright red. 

“Maybe, this weekend.” 

“Yes!” 

“I’m doing work, now. Please leave me alone.” 

* * *

On Friday, at five-thirty in the morning, Hisoka woke to Illumi in his doorway. He, for once, looked tired, too: eyes bleary and half-opened, ponytail messy. 

“You told me to come wake you before we lift.” 

“Mhm,” Hisoka groaned, righting himself slowly. 

“Are you coming to watch?” Illumi asked, an eyebrow raised. He had a banana in his hand, bright yellow and slightly green at the top and bottom. 

“Thought I would,” Hisoka said with a shrug. He rubbed at his face with the heels of his palms. 

“I’m going to stay here until we need to leave, then.” Illumi kicked off his Crocs and plopped down at the foot of Hisoka’s bed, leaning his weight against the wall running along the side of it. He dug his fingernail into the bottom of his banana and began to peel it. 

“How is your knee feeling?” 

“Honestly, fine.” 

“You have a week left, right? Before you can play?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Hm.” 

“But it doesn’t hurt,” Hisoka added, standing up on unsteady feet. “I can walk on it fine, they just don’t want me running and jumping and crashing into people just yet.” 

“Right,” Illumi said around a mouthful of banana. 

Hisoka put on a lazy outfit of Adidas track pants with the school crest on the side and a big black sweater. He found his Birkenstocks and a pair of decent socks and put those on as well. 

“You seem better,” Illumi said after a few minutes, staring at Hisoka appraisingly. 

“I am,” Hisoka agreed. He sat down next to Illumi, letting his cheek fall against the top of Illumi’s head. 

“We have five minutes,” Illumi warned him. His banana was finished, discarded into the trash can beside Hisoka’s bed. The window at their back was icy-cold, and the light that filtered through it was meager and gray. The sun wouldn’t properly rise for another half hour. 

It was strange, like they were in a purgatory of some sorts, and Hisoka’s dorm room was the entirety of it, old cream-colored walls and wooden furniture and a bathroom that smelled of lavender. 

“Are you ready?” Illumi asked eventually. Hisoka sat up and yawned. 

“Let’s go.” 

* * *

“You’re doing it wrong.” 

The whole gym stuttered to a stop. The freshman who had been squatting, a decently-sized guy named Maxwell, set the bar on the rack, glancing back at Illumi wide rosy cheeks and wide eyes. 

“What?” 

“Your squat form is off. Your knees are too far together, you’re putting too much pressure on them.” Chrollo, from the other end of the gym, plopped down next to Hisoka and sighed, pushing his headband down and then back up again, pulling back his sweaty hair. 

“Illumi, demonstrate for everyone,” Coach said from his folding chair. 

“Yeah, Illumi, demonstrate!” Hisoka called. Chrollo smiled. Illumi shot both of them a deeply furious look, and then turned to Maxwell, who looked about ready to melt. Illumi and Hisoka had not done the best job of integrating the younger players into the team. They were still timid of the seniors, especially the good ones. 

Hisoka seemed amicable, but he was fickle with the company he kept. Chrollo was known for being tribal with his friends, and also could be so irritating that most of the kids didn’t even bother. 

And Illumi was about as approachable as a power plant. 

“You should start with lower weights in the beginning, especially when you’re still working on your form. It’s not about how much you can squat, it’s about using the right weight for what kind of muscle you want to build.” Illumi’s voice was oddly gentle. Max nodded and then scooted back into the growing ring of underclassmen who had surrounded Illumi at Coach’s request. 

Chrollo and Hisoka remained in the far corner, watching with their weight leaned back on their elbows. 

“Each one of these plates is forty-five pounds, and you have two on each side. On top of that, the bar weighs another forty, plus your own bodyweight. Keep that in perspective.” 

“Illumi’s actually being a good captain,” Chrollo whispered. 

“He just likes telling people what to do,” Hisoka whispered back. 

“Oh,” Chrollo said dazedly. 

Illumi settled under the bar, flicking his ponytail out from under it and gripping it in equidistant places from the center. He adjusted his feet to the right width and then pushed up, unhooking the bar from its rack and stepping back on legs corded with muscle. 

“When you go down, keep your chest up, and your knees right above your feet. You should keep as much of your weight as possible in your heels.” As Illumi spoke, he sank down into a low, powerful squat. The big t-shirt he was wearing hadn’t done much for Hisoka earlier, but his shorts were more than making up for it now. 

Illumi was making eye-contact with himself in the mirror, eyes dark and focused. A few strands of his ponytail were stuck to cheek with sweat. He pushed up, his quad muscles engaging briefly, fluttering against his skin. 

“Every underclassman on the team is looking at your boyfriend’s ass,” Chrollo whispered. 

“Yeah,” Hisoka agreed, “but so are we.” 

“Yeah,” Chrollo said, breathlessly. 

Illumi demonstrated twice more, finishing with a little sigh and dropping the bar onto the rack with a loud clang. 

“Take some of that weight off and start again. Focus on form, not how hard it is.” 

“Okay,” Maxwell echoed. 

With that, Illumi went back to his bench press setup, shaking his legs out as he walked. 

Hisoka followed his path with his eyes, cheeks rounding into a smile. A feeling of wonderment, of satisfaction, struck him. He knew that he wasn’t the only one thinking of Illumi in a specific context right now. If he had to guess, there was a reason why poor Maxwell was readjusting his shorts, and it wasn’t because of his squatting form. 

And yet, of all the people thinking of him, of all the people who had been watching him,  _ he  _ was the one who got to have him. 

It felt like sinking into a hot bath, relief up to his chin. 

“Chrollo! Hisoka doesn’t need a babysitter, keep working!” Chrollo sighed, loudly, and stood, walking reluctantly to where he was doing box jumps. His head kept tilting sideways, however, trying to catch a glimpse of Illumi as loaded more weight onto the rack. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka said, standing up with a squealing stretch, “do you need someone to spot you?” Coach frowned. 

“Hisoka--” 

“I won’t be using my knee, Coach.” 

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” 

Hisoka stopped in front of Illumi’s bench. Illumi’s ponytail kept sticking to the back of his neck from sweat. He glanced at Hisoka and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“Hm?” 

“You were staring.”

“No, I wasn’t. Get on the bench.” Illumi got onto the bench, gripping the bar overhead, making sure his palms were in the right place.

“How’s this weight for you?” For anyone, it was a daunting amount of weight, but Hisoka could never be sure with Illumi. 

“This is my second-to-last set,” Illumi said. 

“So, it’s high.” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka said. He rarely spotted for people. Most of the time, he was the one being spotted. He knew that with this amount of weight, he wouldn’t be able to actually stop the bar from coming down if Illumi’s arms gave out, but he would be able to keep the bar in place if he started going sideways, or if he needed guidance back to the rack. 

Illumi let out a harsh puff of breath from his nose. 

“Ready?” Hisoka asked. Illumi nodded tersely. His cheeks were very red but the rest of him wasn’t. His feet adjusted where they were planted on the floor. 

Finally, Illumi pushed up, chest expanding as the bar lifted off the rack. 

The bar came down, and then up, every muscle in his arm pulling and shifting and straining. 

Hisoka was standing right at Illumi’s head, one thigh nearly touching his shoulder. He had been taught never to stand directly over someone lifting, lest he blocked their field of vision, but he had to be close enough to steady the bar if it was needed. 

Illumi finished the set with a shuddering sigh, arms locked above him. Hisoka grabbed the bar, one of his hands crushing Illumi’s underneath as he guided it back to the rack. 

“Whew,” Hisoka said, hands on his hips. Illumi panted below, staring up at him with gleaming, tired eyes. 

“Can you add ten on each side, please,” he said finally. Hisoka obliged. 

Coach came over, inspected the weight, and then nodded to himself. 

“Hisoka, make sure you’re paying attention, that’s a lot of weight.” 

“I am,” Hisoka said indignantly. 

“Last time you spotted me, you let the bar fall on my chest,” Chrollo said from the other corner of the gym. 

“Well, I  _ was  _ paying attention, I just didn’t care.” 

“Boys,” Coach said chidingly. 

“I’m ready,” Illumi intoned from the bench, gazing up at Hisoka blankly. 

“Oh, ‘kay, one second.” Hisoka readjusted his footing, pressing his thigh against the head of the bench, trapping a few strands of Illumi’s ponytail between it. 

“Ready,” Hisoka said.

Illumi pushed up. His feet tensed, core contracting, arms bulging, and then the weight was up, held above his chest with locked arms. 

“I’ll count,” Hisoka said, eyeing the bar with intensity. 

“One.” 

“Two.” 

“Three--” The bar slid a little bit to the side, but Hisoka was there, gripping it with one hand above and one hand below and righting the bar. 

“ _ Thanks, _ ” Illumi huffed. 

“Four.” 

“Five.” 

When Illumi finished the set, Hisoka didn’t even wait for him to try to rack the bar himself. He braced his forearms under the bar and lifted, still letting Illumi do most of the work. Together, they got the bar onto the rack. 

“Ah,” Illumi said, sitting upright, chest heaving. Hisoka clapped his hands on Illumi’s shoulders. 

“Ew, you’re sweaty.” 

“Go away,” Illumi said. He stood eventually, tightening his ponytail in the mirror, causing a little bump of hair to appear on the side of his head. 

Coach checked his watch and frowned. 

“It’s seven-fifteen. Everyone go shower and get ready for class. If you’re late, I’ll make you run laps on Monday.” 

“Thanks, Coach!” Hisoka crowed. 

“Hisoka,” Coach said, voice low, “hang back a second, would you?” Chrollo and Illumi both whipped their heads around. The rest of the team filtered out of the weight room slowly, legs and arm and stomachs turned to jelly. 

Hisoka sat on the bench Illumi had bench-pressed on, elbows resting on the tops of his thighs. Coach sat on the bench opposite. 

“How’s your knee?” 

“Hurts when I go up the stairs.” 

“Walking’s fine?” 

“It hurts at the end of the day, aches, I guess, but no, walking is totally fine.” Coach sighed, rubbing at his forehead. 

“We need a full lineup for a few of the teams we’re playing in the coming weeks, but if I put you in, and you fuck your knee up, then there’s no point in qualifying for the championship.” 

“You could put Illumi in my position, he’s good there, and then you could--” 

“Cross that bridge. When we play St. Matthew’s in a week and a half, I want you to start.” 

“I’ll be ready to play by then,” Hisoka agreed. 

“That game is on a Saturday. On Friday, you’ll do our warmup with the team and then you’ll sit out for the rest of practice, maybe do some passing with someone, to shake off the cobwebs.” 

“I can practice by then,” Hisoka said, frowning. 

“We need to win that game to qualify for the championships, so no, you won’t be practicing beforehand. I’m letting you start, you’re going to score in the first ten minutes of the game, then I’m pulling you out, got it?” Hisoka’s shoulders deflated. 

“Yeah, okay.”

“I need you well enough to play full games by the end of the season.” 

“I know.” 

“So no fucking around, got it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, get to class.” Hisoka stood, feeling his knee twinge at the movement, and left the weight room. Illumi was standing outside, freshly showered, eyeing Hisoka apprehensively. 

“How’d it go?” 

“My first game is going to be St. Matthew’s,” Hisoka said, shrugging. 

“You don’t sound happy.”

“He isn’t letting me play the full game.” Illumi sighed with relief. 

“I think that’s best.” 

“I don’t.” 

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Illumi sniffed, turning on his heel to walk. Hisoka followed after him, his good mood from earlier utterly diminished. 

“Stop it,” Illumi said, not looking at him. 

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“You’re moping.” 

“I’m allowed to be unhappy sometimes. You’re always moping.” 

“That’s not true.” 

Hisoka poked Illumi between the shoulder blades, coming up behind him to throw an arm over his shoulders. 

“Yes, it is.” 

Illumi glanced to his left, where Hisoka’s hand hung off his shoulder. 

“Not as much, though,” he said. 

“Hm?” 

“The moping, it’s not as much now.” 

“No,” Hisoka agreed, “not nearly.” 

* * *

On Saturday, they played an okay team who was handily defeated by half-time. Hisoka watched from the sidelines and cheered loudly whenever Illumi did anything. He got in trouble for booing when Chrollo made a save, but he kept doing it, just quieter. 

After the game, the team went to the dining hall, sweaty and delighted, and gorged themselves on food. They stayed for hours, until it was nearly seven and the dining hall was about to be closed. 

“Can I come back to your room?” Illumi asked. 

“‘Course,” Hisoka said, standing with a sigh. Illumi looked tired. The team they had played hadn’t been very good, but their lack of organization in the middle had actually proved to be more difficult to handle than expected. Illumi was good at playing against talented teams, because he, being talented himself, could predict what they were going to do. 

This team had been frustrating, and had required more running for Illumi than Hisoka thought he himself could ever manage. 

“Come on,” Hisoka said. “You can shower in my room.” 

“I texted my parents, and they said I could spend the night on-campus.” Hisoka brightened, felt his whole chest burst with excitement. He stared at Illumi and instantly understood his implication, understood that this was the night they would make do on Hisoka’s request in the library. 

_ Sex,  _ Hisoka thought giddily. 

“We can watch a movie! Or we can finish that show I started--ugh--but you haven’t seen it and I don’t want to have to explain it to you.”

“We can watch a movie,” Illumi said, smiling. 

  
  


* * *

“Illumi,” Hisoka called from the bathroom. The air was already thick with expectation, and the way Hisoka was speaking, airy and forcedly light, was making Illumi tense all over. He could feel his heartbeat in his stomach. 

“Hm?” 

“Lie down, would you?” 

“Okay.” Dubiously, Illumi lied down, flopping his hands out on either side of his body, staring up at the ceiling. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he wanted, suddenly, to blowdry it, but Hisoka would probably give him a hard time. He could hear him in the bathroom, humming as he put on face creams or hair serums or whatever else he did. 

Illumi was already starting to get hard, which was embarrassing. All of this was embarrassing, however: being told to wait, being told to lie down, actually doing it. 

“Hisoka?” Illumi rasped. 

“Mhm?” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Almost done, dear,” Hisoka said, turning the faucet on and then off. 

“Okay,” Illumi said, feeling a little miffed. 

Finally, Hisoka emerged from the bathroom. He had his sweatshirt balled up under his armpit, and his shower-damp hair fell in strands over his eyes. 

He brushed them back on instinct. 

“Are you coming now?” Illumi asked, feeling stupid for it. 

“One moment.” Hisoka laid out his sweatshirt on his dresser and began to fold it with irritating precision.

There was something wrong with Illumi. He was fully hard and he hadn’t even touched himself yet, and his eyes were feeling very hot and his fingers itched but he couldn’t move them. 

_ “Hisoka,”  _ Illumi said with more force, more intent. “Come here.” There was a pause. “Please.” 

Hisoka put his folded sweatshirt in his closet and then turned on his heel, his hands held on his hips. 

Illumi felt a bit like a child, being scrutinized by his father, except instead of icy blue eyes, they were fearsome gold, and they were roving over him with a barely detectable sparkle of adoration. Barely detectable, that is, if you didn’t know what to look for. 

“Hi,” Hisoka said, peering down at him, bangs falling to frame his face, expression gleeful. Illumi lifted his head, a lazy demonstration of intent, and like always, Hisoka met him more than halfway. 

Illumi melted into the kiss with a sigh. It felt good to be touched, to be given attention, especially from someone he actually wanted it from. 

“I was thinking,” Hisoka said, in between kisses, “we could try actual sex tonight.” 

“Actual sex,” Illumi echoed. He wasn’t surprised, that was what both of them were expecting.

“And I’ll top,” Hisoka added slowly, studying Illumi’s face. 

Illumi made a sound like a laugh, except it was nervous. 

“We don’t have to,” Hisoka went on. He was still standing over the edge of the bed and Illumi was still lying on top of it, staring up at him blankly. 

“We can,” Illumi said eventually, mouth moving like it was filled with glue. 

“Try not to sound too excited.” 

“I’m not, I’m actually very nervous.” 

“We’ll go slow,” Hisoka promised. “And we don’t have to do it tonight.” 

“I want to do it tonight,” Illumi said. “But I want to shower again, and then lie down for a few minutes.” Illumi was already teetering into the weird overly-controlling state that he lapsed into when he was unsure of something. Hisoka knew that this “shower” was going to be him standing under the piping hot spray, stock-still, for five minutes before he forced himself to come out. 

“Okay,” Hisoka said gently. Illumi stood up stiffly and marched to the bathroom. 

A moment later, Hisoka heard the shower faucet squeal and turn on. 

* * *

“Illumi, we don’t have to.” 

“You’ve said that already.” 

“You liked being fingered,” Hisoka reminded him. That was partially true, Illumi had liked being fingered in conjunction with getting blown, but that was because Illumi really liked blowjobs. 

“Yeah,” Illumi said. 

“Illumi, if you don’t want to--” 

“I do want to.” 

“For me, or for yourself?” 

“That’s a stupid question,” Illumi said. He spread his legs and his arms and sank visibly into the mattress with a sigh. 

“Go on,” he said dramatically. 

“Would it make you feel better,” Hisoka began, settling into the space between Illumi’s thighs, “if you told me what to do? Like, you got to control everything?” Illumi blinked in consideration. 

“Or are you tired,” Hisoka finished. 

“I’m tired.” 

“Okay.” 

“Can we--” Illumi paused, frowning. “Can we watch a movie, during?” Hisoka brightened. 

“Yes!” Hisoka scrambled off the bed and fetched his laptop, flipping it open and setting it on his bedside table. 

“Are we using the projector?” 

“Duh.” 

“Okay, good.” Illumi looked more comfortable now, eyelids relaxing, mouth untwisting. 

Hisoka turned on the little bedroom projector he had, which he and Illumi used to burn through Hisoka’s movie list. 

“What do you want to watch?” Hisoka asked, glancing from his computer screen to the projected image of Netflix on his wall. 

“Anything,” Illumi said. 

“ _ Addams Family Values? _ ”

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka whispered, clicking the movie and flipping the lights off. The light from the projector bathed the room in a gentle, bluish-white glow. 

Illumi scooted over, allowing room for Hisoka, who laid out with a sigh in bed. 

“Just like this,” he added, pulling Illumi against him, his head on Hisoka’s chest. 

“Not to sound like a broken record--” 

“I want to,” Illumi said, face illuminated by the projector’s light. He had his arm thrown over Hisoka’s waist, cheek against his neck, one leg tangled in between Hisoka’s. 

Hisoka ran a hand down his spine as the movie began. Illumi was wearing a pair of his pajama pants, and evidently, no underwear. 

He grazed his fingers at the small of his back. 

Illumi let out a soft breath that Hisoka didn’t realize he had been holding. 

“I’ve never seen this movie before,” Illumi said. 

“Then you better pay attention,” Hisoka replied. Illumi pinched him lazily in the ribs. 

The opening credits rolled by. 

In all honesty, Illumi wasn’t paying attention. Hisoka’s hand was warmer than he had expected, and it was making soothing circles in the skin of his lower back. Hisoka had a bend to his arm still, it wasn’t fully extended, which meant he could go lower, if he wanted to. 

Illumi wanted him to. 

“Your eyes are closed,” Hisoka whispered archly. 

“Mhm,” Illumi said. Hisoka’s hand swept up his spine, running along the little trail of knobs, then went back down, nails scratching lightly at his skin. Illumi resisted the urge to arch like a cat. 

He was a little hard already, could feel it against the mattress. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka said quietly, eyes pinned to the projection, “Tell me if you need me to stop, or slow down, or keep going, okay?” 

“Yes,” Illumi agreed. 

Hisoka hummed and then slipped his hand down, past the waistband of his own pajama pants, pressing his thumb against Illumi’s entrance, dry. 

Illumi’s breath hitched. 

The pressure wasn’t painful, it was barely anything at all, but the touch was still making his gut flutter. 

He ground down onto the mattress and against Hisoka’s thigh, searching for more. 

Hisoka’s thumb rubbed in a tiny, certain circle. His other fingers stroked absently at his perineum, which felt far too good for how gentle it was. 

“ _ Hisoka,”  _ Illumi sighed. 

“Lube,” Hisoka warned him, squeezing a decent amount and spreading it along his fingers. 

Hisoka bent his head to press a kiss to Illumi’s temple just as he pressed the first finger in. 

Illumi let out an involuntarily whine, hips lifting off the mattress with a gasp. 

“Pain?” 

“ _ Nnh _ .” 

Illumi’s thighs squeezed together and Hisoka was reminded of the marvel that was his body, somehow both feminine and masculine, svelte and strong.

Illumi cracked open an eye to watch the movie. Hisoka was curling his finger confidently, using his other lube-slick fingers to rub around Illumi’s entrance in an attempt to relax him. 

It was working, only just. 

“Second finger,” Hisoka said quietly, like he was commentating at a sport’s game. Slowly, he pressed a second finger in. Illumi groaned, squeezing Hisoka’s thigh between two of his. Hisoka used his other hand to briefly stroke Illumi’s hair. 

“I know, it feels weird,” Hisoka said softly. Illumi’s hips jerked in an attempt to get away. “Do you want to stop?” 

“ _ No _ .” 

“Should I go faster?” 

“You should stop talking,” Illumi hissed, a whimper leaving his throat immediately after. Hisoka turned the volume up on the movie and pouted. 

“You’re being mean.” 

“You’re being sensitive.” 

“ _ You’re  _ being sensitive,” Hisoka said with a short, barking laugh, curling his fingers at the same time. 

Illumi, however, reacted differently than how he expected. 

He sighed, like he had just stepped into a bath, and draped himself even more languidly over Hisoka. His eyes were half-open and the sloth’s pace of his breathing almost made it seem like he was asleep. 

“Are you tired?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Does it feel good, though?” 

“Mhm,” Illumi said again, voice low and rough with satisfaction. 

“Okay, I’ll stop bothering you now.” Hisoka made it a point to press his lips together.

Illumi buried the side of his face deeper into Hisoka’s neck, hips grinding forward and back. Hisoka’s fingers felt  _ good,  _ and he seemed to know exactly where to curl and push and spread. 

When he found Illumi’s prostate, grazing it with two slick fingers, Illumi swore there was an electric current running from Hisoka’s fingertips to his cock. He gasped and squeezed Hisoka’s waist tighter. 

“Good,” Hisoka said absently, hardly paying attention, eyes fixed on the movie. “You’re so good, Illumi, at this, at everything.” It tumbled out of his mouth uninhibited. 

“I can’t believe I get to do this. I know it’s kind of scary, but I’ll make it good. I promise.” 

And it went like that, the laziest, softest, warmest, slowest fingering session ever. Illumi found himself dozing off at some points, Hisoka’s fingers still moving inside of him at an almost soothing pace, or he found himself noticing one of the characters, a girl named Wednesday, who reminded Illumi of Kalluto. 

He missed him. 

And then the curl of Hisoka’s fingers--three now--brought him back to his own body, a body as lax as a doll’s. He felt as if his skin was spreadable butter, felt as if the movie in the background was a portal to another world, felt as if Hisoka’s hand was tingling with magic, making him shudder and whimper and whine. 

He’d never experienced anything like this, didn’t think Hisoka had either. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka murmured. “If you still want to, have sex I mean, then we can. I think you’re ready.” For emphasis, he pushed his three fingers all the way in, bypassing the prostate in favor of depth, and then spread his fingers as much as he could.

Illumi felt a slightly tender stretch, but no pain. He sighed against it, the heat and the slickness of it, the way the lube was dripping from his entrance down his perineum. He felt like a girl. 

He realized, as he was rolled on top of Hisoka, that they both still had their clothes on: big, soft t-shirts and pajama pants. Illumi’s pants were rolled down to mid-thigh, but they were still on. He and Hisoka were drowning in over-washed cotton, thin with age. 

“Being on top is better. You can control it.” Hisoka pushed Illumi’s pants all the way down to his ankles and then pulled them properly off, allowing Illumi to properly straddle him. 

Hisoka reached over to the bedside table and slicked his cock with the lube he had there. Illumi stared at it nervously. 

He’d had it in his mouth before, many times now, and in his hand, but this was different. The lighting wasn’t making it seem less intimidating, either. They were more or less the same size, Hisoka being a bit bigger on account of his actual body being a bit bigger, but the dim light made a vein running up the underside of Hisoka’s cock stand out like a scar. 

Illumi supposed it was a weird thing to fixate on, and Hisoka noticed it. 

“You good?”

“Fine,” Illumi said faintly. He propped himself up on his knees, hovering above Hisoka’s cock, and reached behind himself to grab it half-way up the shaft. 

Hisoka made a high-pitched sound. 

“Tight,” he wheezed. 

“Sorry.” 

“Kind of like it.” Illumi’s head shot up and he made eye-contact with Hisoka, who looked sheepish, until Illumi smiled at him, showing teeth. 

Hisoka smiled back. 

“Okay,” Illumi said, more to himself than anything. 

Slowly, he sank down. 

“Take your time,” Hisoka said. 

“I know.” 

“You’re doing so well,” Hisoka said, and it wasn’t an empty platitude. His voice shone with sincerity, nose tilted towards Illumi in an earnest expression. 

Illumi eventually made it to the base. His chin dropped to his chest and he gasped, shakily bracing his palms against Hisoka’s shoulders. 

Hisoka scooted up the bed until he was sitting up, until Illumi and him were chest to chest. 

At that, Illumi fell forward against Hisoka, sighing contentedly. It burned a little, of course it did, but there wasn't any legitimate pain, more like a full-body tenderness, like he had been scrubbed within an inch of his life, inside and out. 

Hisoka didn’t move, didn’t even bother, and Illumi wasn’t keen to, either. They sat like this, with  _ Addams Family Values  _ playing on in the background, skin searingly hot and slightly clammy pressed together, and Illumi began to understand, vaguely, what it was like to be in love. 

Eventually, they both began to stir, Illumi rocking down, Hisoka grinding up. Illumi could have never imagined sex like this, couldn’t imagine feeling anywhere close to an orgasm doing this, but already, he could feel one building in his gut, like the beginnings of a sneeze. 

“I’m close,” Illumi mumbled into Hisoka’s mouth. He felt him smile, teeth clacking against his own. 

“I’m close, too.” Hisoka reached between their stomachs, hand magically wet with lube, and began to stroke Illumi. 

It was so forth giving; there was no teasing, no attempts to frustrate or delay. Hisoka’s hand slid up and down in a confident, steady pace, grip firm. 

Illumi knew he was making sounds, could hear the warble of it in his own ears.

Hisoka’s mouth dropped down to his neck, one hand stroking up his back, the other arm wrapped around his waist. 

The movie melted in his ears in the background. It was nice to have sound, to have something to be moored to while the rest of his body floated out to sea. 

His orgasm began to build, his hips jerking more frantically. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka groaned. Illumi could feel the way his thighs clenched. “Are you close?”

“Illumi,” Hisoka repeated patiently. “Tell me, please.” So polite, even like this. 

“M’close,” Illumi said dazedly, eyes closed, head lolling back and forth with the slight sway of their movements. On instinct, he reached down, reaching to stroke himself, to relieve the building pressure. Hisoka gently pushed his hand away. 

“Just let me. You don’t have to do anything.” 

Illumi bit into the skin of Hisoka’s shoulder, gentle, just a latching of the teeth, a suckle of the tongue. 

“ _ I’m really close,”  _ Illumi whispered. 

Hisoka didn’t answer. His eyes were lidded, gold just barely glimmering out from under his lashes. He was grinding a little more forcefully into Illumi, teeth digging into his lip. 

Without looking, Illumi dragged his right hand down from Hisoka’s shoulder, nails leaving little red lines, and caught Hisoka’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Hisoka whimpered, head knocking back. 

Illumi’s fingers were shaking and uncoordinated, his own orgasm nearly there, but he managed to stay present to watch as Hisoka buried his face in Illumi’s neck and came, one knee jerking up and nearly hitting Illumi in the back. 

It was in the moments after, unreleased pleasure still roiling in his stomach, that Illumi realized Hisoka had not been wearing a condom. 

He could feel it start to drip, slicking his and Hisoka’s thighs as Hisoka went soft. 

“ _ Close,”  _ Illumi repeated. It was unnecessary, however, because Hisoka was already stroking him again, his thumb pressing against Illumi’s head, too roughly to be comfortable. 

The orgasm came a little out of nowhere, building up from nothing and wracking through Illumi;s body like hot flashes. 

Hisoka kissed him through it, swallowing down Illumi’s wilted whimpers, his own mouth wet and sloppy and lazy. 

The movie flickered on in the background. 

“We should shower again,” Hisoka said hoarsely. A fine tremble ran through Illumi, strongest in his thighs. It reminded Hisoka of a racehorse, after being run too far and too fast. 

Illumi had had a long day. 

“I’ll carry you,” Hisoka offered.

“Just a minute longer,” Illumi slurred. 

Eventually, Illumi got up, prying himself from Hisoka’s lap and standing on his trembling legs, pink and pale and strong and lean all at the same time. 

He had a bruise right above and to the left of his pelvis. Hisoka couldn’t quite tell if it was Silva or lacrosse. 

“Did that hurt your knee?” He asked quietly.  _ That  _ being the sex.

“No,” Hisoka said, gentle. Illumi teetered towards the bathroom, cum running halfway down the back and inside of his thigh. His now-dry hair ran in waves down his back. 

Hisoka heard the shower turn on and saw Illumi stick his head out of the bathroom, peering at him with his big, black owl eyes. 

“Are you coming?” 

“Yeah,” Hisoka said fondly. 

There was a scratch along Illumi’s quad, an errant kick from a cleat during the game. It was red, looked like the claw marks of an animal. Hisoka traced the lines with his fingers as Illumi slumped back against the tiled wall and let the water hit him. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Hisoka chided, tilting the shower head more towards himself. 

“M’not.” 

“You are.” 

“I’m  _ not _ .” Illumi opened one eye and glared with it. 

“Now you’re not,” Hisoka said, smiling cheekily. 

The shower was ended quickly, both of them eager to get to bed. Hisoka insisted on changing the sheets, so Illumi curled up on his couch and watched with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. It was just warm enough to sleep in boxers with the heat on low, now. 

“Okay, done,” Hisoka said with a satisfied sigh. 

Illumi crawled into bed and collapsed there, lifting an arm lazily for Hisoka to slip in against him, his head resting on Illumi’s chest. 

“Ow,” he said a moment later, nose wrinkled with discomfort. 

“What?” 

“My piercing,” Hisoka explained, touching it tenderly with his fingertips. 

“Just lie flat on your back.” 

“But I like to sleep on my side.”. Illumi glared at him from the corner of his eye. 

“I really can’t help you with this, Hisoka.” 

Hisoka made an offended sound and then adjusted so that his cheek was pressed against Illumi’s chest, instead of his ear. 

“Better,” he mumbled contentedly. 

“Thank goodness,” Illumi replied, fighting back a smile. Hisoka’s right foot tangled with Illumi’s, tucking under his calf with a wriggle of his toes. 

“Goodnight,” Hisoka said. 

“Goodnight.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thx for reading <3 
> 
> as always, comments are deeply appreciated
> 
> until the next update, peace!
> 
> also my twitter is here https://twitter.com/ohofcourses


	13. Four Minutes In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for references to child abuse in this chapter. It doesn't get graphic but I do describe injuries caused by it, so I thought I'd let you guys know!

Hisoka instantly recognized the knock, a soft, rapid tap on his door that, despite its gentleness, seemed to silence the room. 

“I’ll get it,” Hisoka said, heaving himself up off the floor, kicking Phinks lightly as he went. 

Illumi was indeed at the door, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up, eyes wide and white. 

“Hi,” Hisoka said, feeling the smile fall from his face. Illumi wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at the mass of people lounged about Hisoka’s room. Paku and Machi and Shizuku had claimed Hisoka’s bed. Feitan and Chrollo and Phinks were sprawled out on the floor, quietly fighting to connect to Hisoka’s speaker first. 

“You okay?” Hisoka asked, an eyebrow lifted. Illumi looked somber, but then, he always did. He didn’t know what he was expecting, probably just a flat,  _ I’m fine,  _ and that would be that. 

“No,” Illumi replied very quietly. 

“Oh,” Hisoka said blankly, “um, okay, wait, just wait.” Illumi backed out into the hallway, letting his weight sag against one of the walls. 

Hisoka turned to the guests in his room. 

“Can you guys leave?” 

“We just got here,” Machi said, brows lowering over her eyes. Chrollo, clever as always, was staring at Hisoka with an acute expression. His gaze darted to the door, still ajar, where he knew Illumi was standing just out of sight. 

“Why?” He asked slowly. 

“‘Cause we’re about to have sex, Chrollo.” Hisoka felt an angry little flame lick up the inside of his stomach. “Everyone just get out.” 

Feitan was the first to stand. Phinks and the girls followed right after. Going by the dead silence in the hall, Illumi didn’t acknowledge them as they left. 

Chrollo lingered in the doorway, staring Hisoka down like he had just committed a crime. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” Hisoka asked. “Bye, Chrollo.” He did a mocking little wave. 

Chrollo turned on his heel and strode out the door, muttering out a low  _ hey, Illumi,  _ before descending down the dorm’s stairs. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka said, poking his head out into the hall. “Come on, everyone’s gone.” 

“I called you,” Illumi muttered as he shuffled in. It was hot today, and in order to compensate for the hoodie he was wearing, he had on athletic shorts, navy blue and coming up to about mid-thigh. 

He wasn’t wearing Crocs today, just sneakers, which were battered at the heels and looked like they didn’t even need to be untied to come on or off. 

“I’m sorry,” Hisoka said, sincere, “I didn’t see.” 

“I called you three times.” Illumi’s voice was rough but still somehow very tender, like he was one word away from bursting into tears. 

He kicked off his shoes and fell immediately into bed, first settling on his stomach and then rolling onto his side, with his back facing the room. 

Hisoka crawled in after him, feeling sick to his stomach. He had never quite seen Illumi like this--close, but never this bad. 

He reached gingerly to wrap an arm around Illumi’s waist. 

Illumi sighed at the contact. His hood had fallen with his movement, and revealed a purpling bruise stretching from jaw to temple. Hisoka said nothing of it, just gently gathered Illumi’s hair into one bunch so that it wasn’t stuck underneath his neck. 

“Are you going to sleep?” Hisoka asked. 

“I’m going to try,” Illumi replied. 

“Okay.” 

Hisoka wanted to press, but he knew he wouldn’t get anything out of Illumi that way. He heard his phone buzz repeatedly and one cursory glance told him it was Chrollo. 

He reached out and turned his phone off. 

Already, Illumi’s breathing was starting to slow, the delicate birdcage that was his ribs falling and rising in long, soft gusts. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka murmured. “You can borrow some of my pajamas. Change before you fall asleep.” Illumi didn’t answer, just grunted once, so Hisoka took it upon himself to fetch clothes. 

He grabbed pajama pants and was reaching for a t-shirt, when he paused. 

“What do you have under your sweatshirt?” 

“I’m not taking this off,” Illumi rasped, still facing away from the room. 

“I won’t look at you, I promise, but you’ll be more comfortable.” 

Illumi eventually wriggled out of his shorts--he wasn’t wearing underwear underneath and Hisoka could see a spot on his hip bone that looked like a starburst of ruptured blood vessels, spidering out into the makings of a deep red bruise. 

It almost looked like a hickey, except Hisoka knew that it wasn’t. 

As clinically as possible, Hisoka maneuvered Illumi into the pajama pants. He had to physically lift Illumi’s lower half to get the waist of the pants up onto his hips. After, he waved the shirt in front of Illumi’s face. 

“I’ll turn around, but change into this, please, and then you can sleep.” 

He heard the rustle of fabric and the slight intake of a breath as Illumi gingerly took off his sweatshirt and pulled on the t-shirt. 

“I’m done.” 

The oversized shirt dwarfed Illumi, draping over his shoulders, revealing pale, blessedly untouched collarbones. 

Illumi fell back into bed without another word, this time pulling the covers over himself until he looked like a benign lump of blankets. 

“Illumi, this is the last thing, I promise, but did you finish your work? How long should I let you sleep?” 

“I finished everything,” he said with a sigh. “I just came here because I needed somewhere to sleep.” 

“Okay.” There was a pause. “I’m gonna--I’ll grab food from the dining hall so when you wake up, you can eat something. Just don’t worry about anything.” 

“Thank you,” Illumi said, his voice heartbreakingly soft.

Dark eyes slid over to look at Hisoka, to properly look at him. There was something callous about Illumi’s gaze, something that made Hisoka shift his weight nervously. 

Clearly something had happened, that wasn’t even a question, but Hisoka didn’t know where to go from there. He was starting to realize that this was something he couldn’t do anything about. There was no climax, no resolution; this had happened before him and would probably happen after him and Illumi would deal with it the way he always had: alone.

Illumi was asleep now, his hands curled into loose fists at his side. His cheeks were flushed, like he had just done a headstand. 

Hisoka wanted to touch him, to break open the delicate curls of his fingers, feel the web of skin between his thumb and index. 

Being with Illumi felt like a hand in his hair at all times, always being touched, always being watched and spoken to and known. It was something Hisoka had never experienced before. He didn’t think he would be able to, not without feeling suffocated. 

Yet, here he was. 

Hisoka’s phone buzzed again. 

_ Chrollo,  _ he snarled, preparing to tell him to fuck off. He grabbed his phone, blinking blearily at the screen, and then frowned. 

_ Gon: Hey Hisoka  _

_ Hisoka: whats up?  _

_ Gon: I was wondering if you could ask illumi if killua is alright? He hasn’t been answering my texts or calls and he isn’t at school today. :( _

_ Hisoka: oh  _

He glanced at Illumi’s sleeping face, at the bruise coloring his cheek. A sick feeling of realization set over him. 

_ Hisoka: he’s sleeping right now. Ill ask him when he wakes up i promise. Hes probably just sick tho. Illumi has been under the weather recently too  _

_ Gon: thank u!!  _

Hisoka pulled up Milluki’s contact after. 

_ Hisoka: milluki, where are u right now?  _

* * *

As Illumi slept, Hisoka slipped across campus to the McKinley building. 

Milluki had a friend who lived in the dorm. The friend used to have a roommate, but he had been kicked out for plagiarism, so the kid was left with an oversized room and no one to share it with. Milluki had more or less moved in and converted most of it into a computer room: three monitors mounted to the wall, wires exploding out the back and curling behind a desk. Blue LED lights wrapped around the walls haphazardly. Various anime women in excruciating-looking poses decorated his walls. 

“Your big brother’s in my room,” Hisoka said in the doorway. 

Milluki glanced at him, headphones half off his ears, and an understanding flitted through his gaze. 

“No,” he said sharply. 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to--” 

“No! Don’t involve me in this. Just because Illumi is physically incapable of leaving shit alone doesn’t mean I get to be dragged into it.” Milluki’s eyes were wet and swimming with anxiety. It was a strange look on him, disconcerting, kind of like Illumi passing out in Hisoka’s bed with bruises up his face. 

“Is Killua alright?” Hisoka settled for. “Gon’s been texting me.” 

“He’s fine,” Milluki said darkly, eyeing Hisoka like he was about to get attacked. “Split lip or something, that’s all. Kikyo didn’t want him coming to school looking roughed up” 

_ But they let Illumi go looking like a corpse? _

“You’re messed up, you know that?” 

“Did you just come here to insult me?” Milluki asked. He turned in his swivel chair. The light from his monitors illuminated half his face in blue and green. 

Head-on, it was easy to see the family resemblance. He had finely-shaped eyes and the pert nose of his mother, a nose that all the children shared, if Hisoka remembered correctly. 

Unlike Illumi and Killua, however, there was less recoil to his actions, less hesitance and wariness. Hisoka wasn’t sure how he had escaped his parents’ unique brand of rearing, but he had. 

“What am I supposed to tell Gon?” 

“Tell him that he’s been grounded or some shit. I don’t  _ know _ , Hisoka.” 

“Was it bad?” Hisoka asked, leaning in close to Milluki’s face. He could feel himself smiling, but it was disconnected from his body, like a fatigue-induced eye twitch. 

Milluki shrunk back a little and glared, baleful. 

“What do you want me to say? You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” Hisoka couldn’t quite believe it, Milluki’s callousness. 

“They’re your brothers,” Hisoka said tautly. If he had siblings to speak of, he wouldn’t be like this, he was sure of it. 

“What?” Milluki sneered defensively. “You want me to get beaten in solidarity or some shit? Like  _ that  _ would make Illumi feel better. Are you stupid? Do you even know him?” 

“I never said--” 

“The last thing Illumi needs is to be even more stressed out about us. Just leave it alone.” 

Hisoka scanned the room again, gaze lingering on the computers. He pursed his lips, stared back down at Milluki, and then jabbed a finger into his soft chest. 

“Be fucking nicer to him.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m serious, Milluki.” 

“I know.” 

“Or I’ll fucking hurt you, seriously.” 

“I get it, Hisoka.” 

Hisoka leaned back onto the balls of his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets. Milluki sighed, so soft that Hisoka was almost certain it wasn’t meant to be heard. He rubbed at his eyes and swayed forward into his chair. 

“Will you let me know how he is? He won’t say shit to me.” 

One of Milluki’s screens fell asleep, turning to black. 

“Yeah, I will.” 

* * *

The walk from Milluki’s room to the dining hall was freezing. Hisoka stuck his hands into his armpits as he walked, wishing he had bothered to throw a sweatshirt on over his t-shirt. 

He was praying he didn’t run into Chrollo and his friends. He knew Chrollo, he knew his shrewdness. He wouldn't be content with,  _ Illumi has a stomach ache.  _ He would want to know what exactly was going on, and this wasn’t Hisoka’s news to tell. 

“Hiso,” came a familiar voice as soon as Hisoka stepped into the dining hall. He cringed, bringing his shoulders up to his ears. 

“I’m just grabbing some food to go,” he said quickly. 

“What’s Illumi’s deal?” Chrollo asked, keeping pace with him as he beelined for the servery area. 

“Buzz off, Chrollo,” Hisoka said, trying to keep his voice light. 

“Hisoka--” 

“Hey!” Phinks shouted from the other end of the hall, “Chrollo! Come here!” Chrollo hesitated, looking between Hisoka and Phinks, then he sighed, nostrils flaring like a proud horse, and walked back to his table. 

Hisoka quietly gathered a mountain of food that could be carried and walked as quickly as he could back to his dorm. He didn’t want Illumi to wake up without him, alone. 

* * *

Illumi was still sleeping, thankfully. He had shifted positions, curled up tighter now, the pillow he was using under his head now being clutched in his arms like a person. Hisoka set the food down, arranged it in a way to look inviting. 

He had stolen blueberry muffins and bananas and ceramic bowls of mac and cheese stacked atop each other, as well as three italian deli-style sandwich halves and five slices of pizza wrapped in napkins. 

Two mini cereal boxes were in each of his pockets. 

He felt like a mule. 

After everything was set out, he crept gingerly into the bed, situating himself so that he was hovering atop Illumi on all fours. 

Illumi sighed in his sleep. 

Hisoka kissed him. 

Not on the mouth, just at the soft, sleep-warm skin of his throat, then closer to his jaw, right under his ear. Each kiss was dry, but it wasn’t chaste. Hisoka lingered, nose brushing the sharp angle of Illumi’s jaw. 

Illumi sighed again, eyes flickering open. 

“I brought food. If you’re hungry, you can eat and then sleep again.” 

One of Illumi’s hands, uncoordinated with sleep, fumbled for Hisoka’s shirt and pulled him down until Hisoka’s weight was pressed against his body. 

This lasted for approximately a second before Illumi winced, face screwing with pain, mouth opening in an aborted gasp. 

“Off,” he got out. Hisoka pushed himself back up onto his hands. 

He leaned forward and kissed the new crease in Illumi’s brow. 

“You’re warm,” Hisoka said, trying to hide the concern on his face. 

“I feel it,” Illumi replied, eyes opening to reveal a glassy gaze. His face was soft from his slumber, slightly swollen around the cheeks and eyes. Hisoka sat back on his haunches and swiped his thumbs over the soft skin under his eyes, skin that was gray and bagged. 

“Come on, eat. You don’t have to talk. I stole a bunch of mac and cheese.” 

* * *

Illumi took Hisoka’s offer to heart. He didn’t talk. He hunched over one of the bowls and listlessly picked at the pasta, and when he had his fill, he went right back to sleeping. 

Hisoka tidied up his room in the meantime. He texted Gon, too, and then Chrollo. 

At about eight pm, Illumi’s phone alarm went off, and he roused himself, groaning softly. 

“Hey,” Hisoka said, picking at a blueberry muffin on his couch. 

Illumi grunted. 

“I’m guessing your car is waiting?” 

“Mhm.”

“No chance they’ll let you sleep here?” Illumi limped to where Hisoka was curled up and stooped over, dropping his head to Hisoka’s neck. He was feverishly hot to the touch, and Hisoka could hear the way his breath rattled in his chest. 

He kissed Hisoka’s throat, a mumbling kiss with tired lips, and then righted himself. 

“No chance,” he answered finally, voice hoarse. Hisoka considered him for a moment, his exhausted expression, his mussed hair, the darker reddish indentation inside the bruise on Illumi’s cheek that spoke of a wedding band, and he sighed. 

“I’ll walk you to the car. Keep the clothes.” 

“Okay.” 

Hisoka felt nausea roiling in the pit of his stomach as he led Illumi to that silver Bentley. Milluki was waiting outside on his phone. When he noticed Hisoka and Illumi, he stiffened, and his gaze unsubtly traced Illumi’s body. 

“Hey,” Milluki said, gentler than normal. 

Illumi dug his hand into Milluki’s hair and ruffled it affectionately. The hood of his sweatshirt hid most of his face, but Hisoka knew the expression he was making, the same kind he was struck with when watching Killua from across the dining hall, this odd, fearsome intensity that was simultaneously insane and tender. 

Hisoka felt nerves surge up his throat like vomit as Illumi disappeared into the car. He and Milluki shared one last glance, and for some reason, the look on Milluki’s face was comforting, it set Hisoka’s shoulders back just a bit, lessened the acid in his chest. 

Then the door slammed shut and the car purred away. 

* * *

Hisoka got the call four days later, on a Friday, that he was cleared to play for his game on Saturday. 

He showed up to practice that afternoon leaping like a puppy, throwing himself onto Illumi and Chrollo’s shoulders without care for their balance. 

“Hisoka, cut it out,” Coach said tiredly. 

Illumi rubbed his neck resentfully. 

“That  _ hurt,  _ Hisoka, stop jumping on people.” 

“Aren’t I allowed to be happy?” Still, he stopped, expending his extra energy instead by kicking at the turf. 

“Hisoka,” Coach called, “warm up with the team, like we discussed, then you’re done!” 

“I feel fine!” 

“You heard me!” 

Chrollo smiled a little smugly as Hisoka forlornly set himself up at the front of the left stretching line. Illumi was at the front of the right. 

“Ready?” Illumi asked, glancing over at Hisoka. His bruised face was more or less healed. No one asked about it, no one dared. 

Hisoka could see the slightly greenish tinge to his cheek, but that was all. 

“Ready,” Hisoka said, inhaling the sweet spring air like it was his first time. 

* * *

“Oh you’re  _ fucking  _ kidding me,” Kevin groaned. The lacrosse senior at St. Bennet’s School knocked his head back against the lockers, trying to quell the growing despair in his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this, like everything was doomed from the start. 

“What?” A freshman asked, peering at his phone curiously. 

“One of my friends from Belmont just texted me.” 

“Uh oh,” one of Kevin’s friends said, plopping down on the bench next to him. A few other boys on the lacrosse team started to gather. 

“What did they say?” The freshman pressed. Kevin chewed on his lip, eyes flitting with anxiety. 

Finally, he lifted his head and gave the third of his team assembled in front of him a grim, hopeless smile. 

“Hisoka Morrow was just cleared to play against us tomorrow.” 

* * *

It was a home game this time, which meant that the Zoldyck family and most of the school were on the sidelines. 

Silva and Kikyo were standing a little ways off from the rest of the parents, both dressed slightly too formally for spectating at a lacrosse game. Killua zipped around with Gon, the cut down his lip still healing. Milluki had disappeared into a cluster of his friends. 

Hisoka kept checking to see if Illumi was staring at them, but he wasn’t. He was retying his cleats with an admirable dedication, fingers moving deftly but without any real hurry. 

“I can see you staring,” Illumi said, finishing off his laces. 

“I’m not.” 

“You are.” 

“I’m allowed to look at people, especially my  _ boyfriend _ .” 

Illumi bit back a smile, or tried to, but Hisoka could see his lips twitch. 

“Are you going to ask me how my knee feels?” 

“How does your knee feel?” 

“Good,” Hisoka said with a shrug. 

“Hisoka! Stretch!” Coach called. “Illumi, get your ass over here.” Illumi and Hisoka switched places, with Illumi standing up and Hisoka plopping down on the bench to half-heartedly stretch himself out. 

“Yeah?” Illumi asked. 

“How’s Hisoka?” 

“Seems good.” 

“I’m throwing you up in Hisoka’s position when he’s subbed out.” 

“Oh,” Illumi said faintly. This was a good thing, he knew, but it was filling him with a deep, penetrating dread. 

“You’ll be great. I just need someone aggressive enough up there to score a few goals. This team is scrappy.” 

“Okay.” Illumi glanced at Hisoka and found him lounging back on the bench, clearly not stretching. His foot tapped impatiently on the ground, eyes scanning the other team as they warmed up. 

His head tipped forward and his gaze lifted as a pair of seniors he knew on the other team trotted onto the field to pass a ball between them. Illumi got a look at his eyes through his helmet and felt something jolt through him, like a shock of static. 

Usually, Hisoka was all smiles before a game, leaping and bounding like a hyperactive dog. He wasn’t like this now. 

His head tipped forward and all Illumi saw was a gaze so lazy, so predatory, that it sent a chill down his spine. 

When Coach whistled for the team to gather, Hisoka stood with a sigh and walked with a slight limp to the huddle. 

“Hisoka, ten minutes,” Coach said. 

Hisoka nodded soberly. 

“Alright, you guys know what to do. Let’s go.” 

* * *

Hisoka scored the first goal four minutes into the game. 

The reaction from Belmont’s team was so uproarious, so delighted and relieved, that even Chrollo participated in the dogpile on Hisoka, who was finally smiling again. 

Grinning like a child through the cage of his helmet.

“Hisoka!” Coach called, waving him over. Hisoka’s smile fell. 

“ _ Coach!”  _ Hisoka whined, plaintively. A few of the players on the other team shared dubious glances.

“Let’s go!” Coach called. Hisoka somberly jogged to the bench. 

“That wasn’t ten minutes,” he said. 

“Well, you shouldn’t have scored so fast, then,” Coach said with a smile, slapping the top of Hisoka’s helmet.

Hisoka was replaced with a junior who would take over Illumi’s position, which would in turn allow Illumi to take Hisoka’s. 

Hisoka flopped down on the bench and shucked his helmet off. 

“Ice it.” 

“Doesn’t hurt.” 

“I’ll make it hurt, Hisoka, ice it.” 

One of the trainers handed Hisoka a bag of soft, crushed ice. He accepted the thin cloth to wrap it in and then slapped it down on his knee, glaring resentfully at it and at the ground. 

Illumi was taking his spot on the field, rolling his neck and bouncing on his heels in preparation. Despite Hisoka’s irritation about being pulled off early, there was something exhilarating about  _ Illumi  _ taking his place. It felt like ownership, though he wasn’t sure which way around it was meant to be. 

The defender who was man-marking Illumi seemed confused by Hisoka’s absence, and wrongly relieved. He trailed Illumi with less focus, with less fear. It only took Illumi another few minutes to turn the goal count from one to two. 

Hisoka looked for Silva and Kikyo’s reactions. They were standing stiffly, watching as Illumi was patted on the side of his helmet, as Chrollo wrapped his arms around his torso, lifted him, and shook him a bit like a dog. 

_ Your son has friends,  _ Hisoka thought a little evilly.  _ Bet that pisses you off.  _

Illumi and the other two forwards ran up the goal count so high that Coach deemed it acceptable to sub them out and throw in their freshmen and non-starters. 

By the second half, Chrollo, Illumi, and Hisoka were sprawled out on the ground near the bench, ankles sticking out of the pop-up tarp’s perimeter of shade. 

“Your parents left,” Hisoka noticed. Illumi made a scoffing sound. 

“As soon as I was subbed out.” 

“That’s bad sports parents etiquette,” Chrollo said. 

“I’ll be sure to tell them, Chrollo.”

“Coach, I played for  _ four minutes _ ,” Hisoka reminded him. Coach flapped his hand at Hisoka dismissively. 

“If I get fat, it’s your fault.” 

Illumi shoved Hisoka’s jersey up without warning and smacked his stomach so hard that Hisoka yelped and then curled in on himself. 

_ “Jesus Christ, Illumi,”  _ Hisoka wheezed as Illumi and Chrollo sniggered. 

“Felt pretty good to me,” Illumi said, fighting back more laughter. 

“Thanks,” Hisoka replied dryly. He lifted his shirt himself this time and pouted at the very obvious red handprint on his abdomen. 

The game dwindled to an end with no new goals scored. Illumi led the team in a thorough cooldown and Coach sent them on their way. 

“Hisoka, take it easy!” 

“I get it!” Hisoka shouted back, already making his way to his dorm, Illumi in tow. 

* * *

Just as they were walking up to the dorm, Illumi’s phone rang. Illumi let it ring for a few seconds more before he dug it out of his pocket and answered without looking at the contact. 

“Hi, dad.” 

Hisoka leaned in to listen but Illumi shoved him away. 

For a few minutes, he just stood there, listening. 

“Thank you,” Illumi said finally. “Could I… spend the night here? We’re doing team bonding.” Lies. 

“Okay, thanks, dad. Thanks. Okay, bye, love you too.” 

Illumi hung up the phone and then stared at it’s black screen with a shy, twitching smile. 

“What’d he say?” Hisoka pressed. 

“I played well,” Illumi whispered. “He was proud of me.” 

When Illumi lifted his head, his tiny smile had turned into a full-blown grin. 

“You did play well,” Hisoka agreed, smiling himself now. Illumi’s smiles were always horrifyingly contagious, sometimes because they were funny and other times because they were something else entirely. Hisoka couldn’t quite understand it, it was like someone was pulling the corners of his mouth up with string.

“Let’s go inside,” Illumi said, pulling Hisoka into the dorm by the sleeve of his shirt.

* * *

Hisoka had left the windows open in his room. As soon as they walked in, he shut all of them but one and then dropped onto the couch with a sigh. The breeze, concentrated through one rectangle in the wall now, ruffled his hair.

“So bored,” he muttered. 

“We could do our homework,” Illumi suggested.

“No.” 

“Okay,” Illumi said, shoving at Hisoka’s legs so he could sit on the couch next to him. 

Hisoka’s legs plopped down on Illumi’s lap instead. 

The room was cold, smelled of mowed grass. Afternoon was sputtering into night, waning golden light coming in from one wall of windows. 

Hisoka’s homework sat untouched on his desk. 

“We need to shower,” Hisoka said, toeing at Illumi’s abdomen.

“We barely played.” 

“We still played, though. You can’t get in my bed without showering.” 

“Who says I want to get in your bed?”

Illumi grabbed at one of Hisoka’s ankles as he said it, his calloused fingers digging into the skin there. Hisoka had tiny ankles, so small you could snap them if you weren’t careful. 

“Everyone wants to get in my bed, Illumi. Count yourself lucky.” 

“I am lucky,” Illumi said. He cocked his head and met Hisoka’s wide gaze, the barest breath of a smile on his mouth. “I think I’m very lucky.” Hisoka’s throat bobbed and he looked away. 

“God, you can’t do that,” Hisoka mumbled, flushing to his ears. 

“Do what?” 

“You know.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Go shower,” Hisoka said briskly, shoving Illumi off the couch. 

Illumi stumbled and then righted himself, the pink of his knees knocking together as he stood. Hisoka had to crane his neck to look at him from where he was lying on the couch. Illumi’s head tipped forward, his faint smile widened, and then he turned on his heel very smugly, like Hisoka had just told him a secret he already knew. 

“Be quick!” Hisoka called as Illumi shut the bathroom door.

When Illumi emerged from the shower, hair in damp waves down his back, Hisoka couldn’t help himself. He shoved Illumi up against the steam-slick wall of the bathroom and kissed him. 

His thigh shoved up between Illumi’s legs, through the towel wrapped around his waist. 

“I thought you wanted to shower.” Illumi said, sighing as he grinded subtly against Hisoka’s thigh. 

“Are we gonna do something tonight?” Hisoka asked. 

“Like what?” Illumi’s voice was warm, slightly teasing, like he found this whole situation amusing. 

“Like sex, or something,” Hisoka replied. 

“‘Or something’ sounds really nice,” Illumi joked. 

“We could read poetry naked,” Hisoka said, laughing, “and we could prank-call Chrollo.” 

Illumi shoved Hisoka off of him and then pushed him to the shower, a hand on the small of his back. 

“Shower and then we’ll figure out what to do.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka said cheerily, and then he paused, glancing over his shoulder with furrowed brows. “We are going to have sex tonight, though, right?” 

“‘Course,” Illumi said with a private smile.

“Okay, good.” Hisoka turned on the shower and stuck his foot under the spray. “Close the door, pervert,” he added. 

Illumi closed the door without protest and then sat himself on Hisoka’s bed, peering out the window to watch people as they walked through campus, laughing and talking busily. 

Hisoka appeared from the shower after what felt like a long time, boxers slung around his hips, arms folded over his chest, and a fiery smile on his face. His hair was damp, but fluffy, like he had blow dried it at least partly. 

“Watcha doing?” 

“Looking out the window,” Illumi said, because it was true. 

“You’re so weird.” Hisoka’s voice was bursting with affection. He sank into the bed next to Illumi and stretched out, sighing with contentedness. 

“Pay attention to me,” Hisoka added, elbowing Illumi in the side. Illumi glanced down at him. 

“Okay.” 

“Take off your clothes,” Hisoka added. He was taking too much joy in this, expression gleeful as he controlled Illumi like a video game character. 

Illumi pulled his shirt off his back, letting it bunch around his biceps for a moment as he stared at Hisoka. With his shirt more or less off, Hisoka could see the bruises around his torso from earlier this week--nasty bruises, yellow and green at the edges. The marks on his throat were faded, but visible, still. 

Illumi freed his hair from its knot and it fell in a tumble around his shoulders. 

“So you want to have sex?” He asked, head cocking. He looked like something out of a fantasy novel, bruised but pristine, hair so silky and perfect it was like he had just gotten it done. 

“Um, yeah,” Hisoka said. There was something charged in the air. They had been put through all the motions of a lacrosse game, only to end up sitting out for most of it. It was like they had been injected with adrenaline, just to be forced to read a textbook for an hour. 

“I think I’ll be on top,” Illumi said decidedly, shedding his shirt all the way and tossing it onto Hisoka’s desk chair. 

“Okay,” Hisoka squeaked. Illumi had put on weight since the start of lacrosse season. His ribs were less prominent, and he was broader at the shoulders and chest, a symptom of their tri-weekly lifting sessions. 

If not for the bruises, he would look perfect. 

Illumi sat back on his heels on the bed, staring at Hisoka with a raised eyebrow. 

“You okay?” 

“Obviously,” Hisoka said, leaning back into his pile of pillows with a kingly smile. There was something infuriating about the way he took everything in stride. 

Illumi tugged at the hem of Hisoka’s boxers, an impatient gesture. 

“Oh, you meant now?” 

“Yeah,” Illumi said, looking a bit miffed. 

“I must say, Illumi, you have a wicked fast turnaround.” 

“What does that mean?” Illumi demanded, indignant. 

“Well, two days ago you were all…” Hisoka gestured to his bruises, “and now you’re all--” Hisoka flexed his biceps and turned his expression into a scowl. Illumi’s own scowl turned into a private little smile. 

“I’m changeable,” he said, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Hisoka’s cheek. Hisoka kissed him back, at the juncture of jaw and throat. 

“Mhm.” 

Illumi pulled away, sitting back on his heels, and pulled his arm over his chest, like he was stretching himself out before a fight. 

Hisoka swallowed a lump in his throat. 

Illumi switched arms. His little waist heaved once with a sigh. 

“Should we play music?” Hisoka asked. 

“Sure,” Illumi said, inspecting his fingernails now. 

Hisoka put on something sort of slow, with a lilting spanish guitar and a low, raspy woman’s voice. 

“Take these off and turn over,” Illumi said, tugging at his boxers and then reaching over Hisoka for the plastic bottle of lube he kept in his drawer. 

“Like, on my stomach?” 

“Mhm.” 

Hisoka kicked his boxers off and threw those on the floor. Then, he slowly rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows and glancing at Illumi warily, like he was about to be yelled at. 

“Hips up,” Illumi added softly. Hisoka lifted his hips so that a pillow could be wedged underneath his pelvis. He reached down subtly and adjusted the angle of his dick until he was comfortable. Illumi was still in his boxers, but Hisoka could see the outline of his erection pretty clearly in them. He sort of wanted to reach out and grab it, just to be annoying, but he had a feeling Illumi wouldn’t find it very funny. 

He pillowed his cheek on his bicep and looked at Illumi with a squished eye. 

“You nervous?” Illumi asked, leaning in close.

“Should I be?” Hisoka replied. 

Illumi shrugged. 

Great. 

“Do I have to be on my stomach?” Hisoka added as Illumi’s hand rubbed against his upper thigh. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

Illumi shrugged again, and Hisoka sighed. 

“Okay, just don’t--this is my first time doing this, okay?” 

“I know,” Illumi said, head tilting. 

“So don’t be crazy, is what I’m trying to say.” 

“I’m not crazy.” 

Illumi poured a dollop of lube on his fingers and began to warm it up. 

Hisoka laughed, breathless, light. 

“Right, of course you-- _ oh-- _ ” Illumi pressed his fingers against Hisoka’s entrance, the lube shockingly cool and wet. He didn’t push in, just circled.

From the angle Illumi was at--sitting at Hisoka’s side--he was able to see Hisoka’s face perfectly well, and it was scrunched in anticipation. 

Slowly, gently, he pressed the first finger in. 

Hisoka’s hips jerked up and then shifted down, a half-hearted attempt to get away from the odd intrusion. 

_ “Weird,”  _ Hisoka said with a breathless laugh.

Illumi took his unoccupied hand and stroked it through Hisoka’s hair. He kept his finger moving in and out at a leisurely pace, just getting Hisoka used to the feeling, and by the looks of him, he was. 

His eyes were half-closed and though his hips were grinding upwards now, chasing Illumi’s hand, he seemed far more relaxed, letting his weight sick into the mattress without thought. 

“Two,” Illumi warned, pressing the second in. 

A small whine tore from Hisoka’s throat. 

“Does it hurt?” Illumi asked, curious. 

“Dunno,” Hisoka admitted, eyes wide open now. The stretch felt peculiar but it wasn’t necessarily bad. “I wanna--uh, stop. I wanna get up on my knees.” 

“Stay like this,” Illumi said. 

“ _ Illumi,”  _ Hisoka whined. Illumi leaned his face in close again, fingers starting to scissor inside of Hisoka, who huffed out a breath through his nose. 

Illumi kissed the center of his cheek. 

“Stay like this. You can get on your knees when I fuck you.” 

“O-okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“I think I’m just…” Hisoka paused and his head dropped into the bedding, groaning. “I think I’m going to come soon, Illumi. My fucking  _ dick  _ is up against a pillow. I just want the pressure off.” 

“Already?” Illumi asked incredulously. Hisoka’s head snapped up and his cheeks went red. 

_ “Hey,  _ don’t be like that.” 

“You can stay like this for a little longer.” 

“No, Illumi,  _ I can’t.”  _ Hisoka’s voice went high with a whine. 

“Three?” Illumi asked lightly. 

“Three  _ fingers _ ?” Hisoka wheezed. 

“Yeah.” 

“I just  _ told  _ you I was about to come.” 

“So, no?” Illumi’s expression was blank as ever. Hisoka had no doubt that if he decided right then to stop completely, Illumi’s expression would not change. He’d say,  _ okay,  _ and sit there like a well-trained dog waiting for instruction, not the least bit bothered. 

“No, three is fine,” Hisoka whispered, feeling something he registered as adoration bubble in his chest. “I’m good now.”

“ _ M’gonna come, stop, stop, stop.”  _ Illumi’s hand stopped and he peered down at Hisoka, brushing his bangs back to see his eyes properly. 

“You can come if you want.” His mouth was twisted with amusement.

Hisoka looked back up at him, red-cheeked, expression hazy. 

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, grinning tiredly. “But if I do, you’re going to keep going, and it’s going to be too much.” 

“I would stop,” Illumi said, frowning now. “If you wanted me to stop, I would. You know that.” 

“But I wouldn’t want you to,” Hisoka said, eyes closing, head dropping back to the mattress. 

“Oh,” Illumi said, faltering slightly, The hand he had on Hisoka’s hip had been absent, but it suddenly dug into the bone and flesh there. “You would like it?” 

“I would want it,” Hisoka corrected. Illumi began to feel confusion overtake his confidence. This was something he and Hisoka didn’t share in common--Hisoka liked discomfort, for himself and for others. He dwelled in it like a swamp creature. 

Illumi couldn’t imagine wanting to feel that way on purpose, not by anyone’s hand. 

“Are we gonna have sex or something?” Hisoka asked. It was so irritating how quickly Hisoka reverted back to his smug, cheeky self. 

“Flip over.” 

Hisoka grumbled a bit but he rolled onto his back, sitting himself up on his elbows. He looked handsome: eyebrows raised with expectation, a curl of red hair falling over his brows. Just as Illumi had grown during lacrosse season, Hisoka had gone through some changes as well--he was even leaner in the waist, a result of lots of cardio, and tanner, a result of taking his shirt off at practice constantly, and his shoulders were broader. 

He cocked his head. 

“You good?” 

“Mhm,” Illumi said, bracing a hand on Hisoka’s inner thigh and pushing it apart. Hisoka was still furiously hard, his dick curving up against his belly, twitching slightly every now and then. A clear, shiny patch of precum decorated the area around his belly button. 

Illumi slicked himself up, wiped his hands on Hisoka’s sheets, and pressed himself in. 

To Hisoka’s credit, he didn’t make a sound. His head tipped back and he exhaled loudly through his nose. His thighs were trembling, Illumi noted, but he was pretty sure that was from the fingering. 

“Are you alright?” Illumi asked, propped up above Hisoka on his palms. His hair fell down and shrouded the both of them in a fragrant black curtain, mint-and-eucalyptus-scented. 

Hisoka’s eyes opened. His gaze briefly locked with Illumi’s, and then shyness overtook him and he looked to the side. 

“Just give me a second to adjust.” 

“Hisoka,” Illumi began, barely more than a whisper. 

“It hurts but it’s not bad. It’ll hurt if I move.” 

“Hisoka,” Illumi repeated, “look at me.” He saw Hisoka’s throat bob, saw his jaw clench, and then his head rolled back to the center of the pillow and he wrenched his eyes up, gold to black. 

His cheeks were so red it was like they had been painted that way. 

Illumi forgot all the time how shy Hisoka could be. 

“I don’t like this,” Hisoka whispered. 

“Like what?” Illumi was buried to the hilt, but he wasn’t moving. Hisoka wasn’t clenching quite so hard around him. He would be able to move soon, he was sure. 

“The-the looking.” Hisoka’s gaze drifted away, unable to meet Illumi’s stare for very long. 

“Look at me,” Illumi said again. 

“I don’t like it,” Hisoka ground out, holding the eye-contact like his feet were against coals. 

“Can I move?” Illumi asked, studying Hisoka’s face. It was strange how much of Hisoka’s persona was held in the eyes, the way they hung half-lidded, the way they glinted smug and mischievous. It was even stranger to see him without it, gaze bleary and untethered, mouth half-open, and not in a smile. 

“Yes,  _ yeah _ , please.”

Illumi could feel Hisoka’s cock slide against his belly, could feel the heat and size of it, could feel it throb ever so slightly. 

He slid out and then pushed back in, nothing more than a smooth cant of the hips. Hisoka made a slight hiccuping sound, heels digging into the mattress to angle himself better. He hadn’t broken the eye-contact yet, but he looked like he wanted to, mouth opening and closing almost desperately. 

Eventually, Illumi found a rhythm. 

Hisoka’s head fell back, chin tipping, baring his throat to Illumi like he was offering himself up for sacrifice. Illumi kissed the bob of his throat and then murmured, “if you don’t keep looking at me, I’ll stop.” 

Hisoka’s head tilted down again and he glared, some of that haziness in his eyes giving way to irritation. 

“Why are you so obsessed--” Hisoka cut himself off with a choking sound, hips bucking as Illumi closed a hand around his cock and squeezed.

“Are you close?” 

“Keep touching me and I will be,” Hisoka shot back. Illumi smiled, but it wasn’t evil; it was gentle, fond. He leaned forward, holding his weight up with one hand, and kissed Hisoka, even as his other hand stroked him, slow and confident. 

That, and the smooth rolling of his hips, was causing a tingling heat to build in Hisoka’s abdomen. 

“Are-are  _ you _ close?” Hisoka rasped. 

“Not really,” Illumi said into a kiss. 

“Great.” 

Illumi bit at Hisoka’s lip, teasingly punishing. Hisoka wasn’t necessarily kissing back, but rather letting his mouth fall open, lips soft and wet, little moans escaping them. Illumi’s hand picked up the pace but his hips remained slow, each thrust going as deep as he could make it. On a whim, he adjusted his angle and the reaction from Hisoka was instantaneous. 

He stiffened and then practically squealed, knees clamping on either side of Illumi’s waist, cock twitching in Illumi’s hand.

“Are you okay?” Illumi whispered, pulling away from the kiss just enough to look Hisoka in the eye. 

Hisoka nodded frantically, hips kicking up with impatience. Illumi’s hand, which had paused, began to stroke him again, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the head. He thrusted once, to gauge Hisoka’s reaction, and when it seemed overwhelmingly positive, he continued in full force. 

Hisoka growled like he was angry, but then it melted into a soft, high whine, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. 

“Look at me,” Illumi commanded. 

_ “You suck,” _ Hisoka mumbled, eyes wrenching open, gold and glittering. 

“Are you close now?” Illumi asked, and this time, his smile  _ was  _ a little evil. Hisoka didn’t answer, but the tense jerk of his belly, and the way he writhed--heels digging into the mattress, back arching and twisting--was enough of an answer itself. 

_ “Hah! Please--”  _

Illumi thrusted a little quicker. It felt good to  _ fuck  _ something. There was a release to it that reminded him of playing entire games in blazing hot sun and winning by just a hair. Cathartic and cruel. 

He wouldn’t admit it to Hisoka, who was crying out with every thrust now, his hips jerking desperately, trying to fuck his cock through Illumi’s hand, but he was close too. 

Hisoka was physically bigger than him: broader in the shoulders, more muscles in just about everywhere, but he felt very small at the moment, the tiny expanse of his waist heaving erratically. 

“ _ Please lemme come, lemme come, Illumi.”  _

“Look at me,” Illumi panted. He didn’t know why, but he was becoming addicted to Hisoka’s stare, especially as it was now, wet with sensation, brows furrowed with pleasure and panic. 

Fluttering gold eyes met calm, triumphant black ones. 

“Hi,” Illumi said, smiling breathlessly. 

“ _ M’gonna come,”  _ Hisoka sobbed. Illumi kissed his cheek, then his jaw, then his throat, then he lifted his head back up, making eye contact once again. 

Illumi’s hand slowed, to an almost excruciating pace, but his grip was firm, and his gaze was bright with affection. 

Hisoka’s back arched, he clenched around Illumi’s cock, and then he came, eyes welling as Illumi stared him down. 

“Keep looking,” Illumi murmured gently as Hisoka’s body convulsed, sputtering through the last waves of pleasure. “That’s it.” 

* * *

Hisoka fell limp in the aftermath, eyes finally closing, head lolling to the side. He smiled weakly, stomach heaving with exertion. 

Illumi took pity on him and pulled out, finishing himself off in his hand--and all over Hisoka’s stomach--before slumping forward on top of Hisoka, spent. 

They lied there for a few minutes, panting, the breeze from the window turning the sweet on their skin tacky and cool. 

Hisoka groaned underneath him and shifted, the cum between their bellies making a sick squelching sound. 

“Gross.”

“We need to shower again,” Illumi remarked drowsily. 

“You’ll have to carry me, I physically can’t move.” 

“You can.” 

“No, see?” Hisoka lifted his arm only for it to fall limp again, flopping onto the mattress. Illumi huffed in amusement and lifted his face from Hisoka’s neck. 

“Okay. Come on then.” Illumi wobbled to his feet, his softening cock glistening with lube and cum. Standing there like that, he almost looked like a very artfully done nude sketch: a purposeful, charcoal-rendered batch of lines, strung together in sharp angles, softened by slivers of tender white light. 

Hisoka gazed at him through the ends of his lashes. 

Ah, he loved him very much. 

“I said carry me, didn’t I?” Hisoka said finally, after seconds of just staring. He couldn’t look Illumi properly in the eyes now. Not after all of that. 

Maybe eye-contact with Illumi would become something sexual to him, maybe it would elicit an almost Pavlovian response. Just one look and he was hard in English class. 

Illumi grabbed both of Hisoka’s slightly sticky hands, got a good grip around the wrists, and then tugged. 

“Come on,” he said, laughing now. His hair was sticking to his neck. His bruises looked even worse now that he was covered in a sheen of sweat. 

“Hisoka, get your ass up, I’m serious.” 

“Can’t walk,” Hisoka moaned, slumping half-over the end of the bed dramatically. 

“Carry me,” he added, one eye cracking open hopefully. 

“I’m  _ tired _ ,” Illumi said. 

“How do you think I feel?” 

Illumi gave a little shake of his head and then wrapped his arms around Hisoka’s chest, tugging him fully off the bed and literally dragging him to the bathroom. 

“This isn’t very tender,” Hisoka remarked drowsily as he was sat down on the cold tile of the shower. Illumi turned the shower head away from the both of them and then turned the water on, waiting for it to go hot. 

When he was satisfied, he turned the shower head back onto Hisoka, who flinched, shoulders coming up as his hair was flattened to his skull. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka said indignantly. 

Illumi sat down on the floor in front of him and pushed his wet, dripping bangs back off his face. 

“Sorry.” 

“No, it’s nice,” Hisoka said, eyes half-closed against the fall of the water. 

“Hm,” said Illumi. 

“Hmm,” said Hisoka. 

“ _ Hmmm. _ ” Together.

And they burst into laughter like children. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka murmured from the left side of the bed.

From the pond next to Hisoka’s dorm, frogs and crickets sang a jangling tune in duet. It was fully dark now, rendering all the space outside of Hisoka’s windows totally black, like the boys were floating, the only two people in the universe. 

A nice thought. 

Illumi rolled onto his back with a sigh. 

“Yeah?” 

“Next time your dad does something to Killua, just let him. Please.” There was a long pause. The silence hung in the air like the waiting fall of a bludgeon. Hisoka glanced at Illumi out of the corner of his eye and saw a mouth twisted curtly. 

“I don’t like that you said that.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“I’m not just going to let him turn out like me, Hisoka. He’s already… he’s already getting fucking weird, Hisoka. I’m not letting that happen.” Hisoka took “fucking weird” to mean traumatized, but he knew correcting him would be antagonizing, and contrary to popular belief, that wasn’t always his intention.

“Not everything is your responsibility,” he said instead. 

“I know that.” This sounded like a conversation Illumi had had before, like he was reading his words off a piece of paper. 

“Well, you don’t act like it.” 

“Can we just drop it? I don’t want to talk about this.” And to prove his point, Illumi scooted a little closer to Hisoka and maneuvered Hisoka’s arm so he could rest his head on his bicep. 

Hisoka sighed, listened to the off-beat croak of young spring frogs, and said finally, “yeah, okay.” 

“Good.” 

“You didn’t finish your work for tomorrow, did you?” 

Illumi snorted. 

“No. Did you?”

“Of course not,” Hisoka said. He felt Illumi’s cheek twitch against his arm as he smiled. 

“Are we going to sleep? It’s eight-thirty in the evening.” 

“Just a quick nap,” Hisoka said, pulling the covers up over the both of them. “And then we need to prank-call Chrollo, remember?” 

“Oh, yes,” Illumi replied, stifling a laugh. 

“Let’s pretend to be the Dean of Students and kick him out of the school. Maybe he’ll cry.” 

“Maybe,” Illumi mused. 

“Is that too mean?” 

“I don’t think so,” Illumi said with a shrug. Hisoka sighed. 

“I guess I’m asking the wrong person.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Okay.” 

“Nap time.” 

“Goodnight.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments are truly the air i breathe!!! i appreciate them so much 
> 
> thank u for reading and until the next update, peace!
> 
> https://twitter.com/ohofcourses oh and this is my twitter!!


	14. The Double Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry for how long this took to get out. this chapter might be the longest i've written and a LOT happens!! 
> 
> anyway, please enjoy!!!!

Because of a fire in 1924, the school kept very strict rules about fire hazards in the dorms. There were no string lights, tea kettles, or hanging objects near lighting allowed. 

In Machi’s room, her walls were pinned with swaths of recycled fabric. She had lights in the shapes of pineapples strung about the ceiling above her bed. And as she and Hisoka sat on the heart-shaped cushions she kept on the floor, they sipped little cups of tea, which had been made with her illegal kettle. 

“You haven’t gotten any better,” Machi said.

Hisoka was hunched over an old sweatshirt, brows furrowed, tongue peeking out his lips. Machi had truly never seen him so concentrated in her life. 

“I’m trying, Machi.” 

“I offered to do it for you,” she pointed out, but almost immediately, Hisoka was shaking his head. 

“No, the whole _point_ is that I do it.” 

“Do couples normally do gifts for their three-month anniversary?” 

“Dunno, do they?” 

“Hisoka, please just let me do it.” 

“I do the heart. You can do the words.” 

Hisoka pushed the needle through the fabric again. Slowly, he was stitching a red heart in the sleeve of one of Illumi’s sweatshirts. It had been the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Illumi’s closet the morning they woke up at the Zoldyck estate, the morning they had first kissed, the morning they had decided to date. 

It had originally been Silva’s sweatshirt, which Hisoka guessed was half the reason he was so determined to stab it many times over with a needle. 

“I can’t believe you’re giving _back_ his own sweatshirt as a gift.” 

“Shut up, I’m concentrating.” The heart was almost done. It was wobbly but, and Machi would never admit it out loud, it was pretty cute. 

“Okay, I’ll finish off the excess,” Machi said when the heart was complete. Hisoka dutifully handed the sweatshirt over and watched as she did a clever looping thing that totally hid the end of the thread--after she sniped it with a pair of fabric scissors. 

“Now, the words,” Hisoka said. Machi expertly threaded the same needle with the same red thread. 

“What do you want it to say?” She asked. Hisoka sipped his tea. 

“Okay, I want there to be a _you_.” 

Machi sighed, exasperated.

“Hisoka--” 

“And an _I._ And if you have the space for it, a four-letter word, starts with an _L…”_

“Hisoka,” Machi breathed, the needle hovering over the sweatshirt sleeve. Her eyes were comically wide. 

“What?” Hisoka asked, except he was grinning wildly. 

“Do you actually?” 

“Do I actually what?” 

“Love him?” 

“Well, if I didn’t, that’d be a pretty stupid thing to stitch into his sweatshirt, Machi.” 

“Have you told him?” She demanded. 

“Our anniversary is in one week,” Hisoka began, like he was about to lecture her. “So I have one week to tell him, _or_ if I chicken out, then he’ll be told via sweatshirt sleeve.”   
“You’ve got it all figured out, then,” Machi said dryly. 

“It’s foolproof.” 

“Here we go, then.” 

Machi blocked out the letters with a water-soluble white marker--the only thing that would show up on the black sweatshirt--and then began to stitch. Hisoka watched her silently. 

He liked watching Machi’s hands. It reminded him of a harpist playing the harp, hands moving so deftly that it almost looked easy. Almost. 

“You’re really good,” he said. Machi’s mouth twitched into her impression of a smile. 

“I know.” 

“I’m going to lie to Illumi and said I did this part, too.” 

“Fine.” 

“Can I make some more tea?” 

“Yes, Hisoka.” 

* * *

That Friday night, Hisoka and Illumi dragged themselves out of the comfort of Hisoka’s big corner room and made their way to a dorm across campus that Chrollo had texted them to come to. 

Feiten and Phinks shared a double room in this dorm that they jokingly referred to as the Palazzo. Nobody else called it that yet, but they were insistent it would catch on.

It was made up of three separate rooms: an entrance foyer that was a bit larger than a mudroom, where their closets and shared bathroom hung off of; a living room, with one large sofa and two desks crammed together, never used; and the bedroom. 

No one said anything about the two twin beds pushed together, with queen-size bedding thrown over them to make one large bed. 

Illumi suspected this hadn’t just been done to leave space for their flatscreen television and Xbox set up, though, he couldn’t be certain. Phinks and Feiten had a strange, boyish way of existing together that was both incredibly intimate and unbelievably blasé. 

The second room, the living room, was where most of the socializing happened, and it was where it was happening now. Machi and Shizuku and Paku had been kicked off the couch and were clustered together in one corner, happily sharing a bottle of white wine with the label peeled off. 

Feitan and Phinks stood shoulder to shoulder with their weight braced against the wall, their heads flanking a battered-looking dart board that had a disturbingly beaten down bullseye. 

Apparently, Feitan was _really_ good at darts. 

“Hisoka, pass it,” Chrollo said, making a grabbing hand at the tequila that Hisoka was holding between his thighs. Out of the corner of his eye, Hisoka could see Franklin and Illumi speaking to each other. Franklin was describing his weight-lifting routine and Illumi was nodding so earnestly that it made Hisoka’s chest swell. 

“You are so gross,” Machi snorted from across the room. Hisoka’s head shot up, eyes wide with indignation. 

“I think it’s sweet,” Pakunoda said with a shrug. 

“ _We_ don’t do that, do we?” Machi pointed out. “What if I made heart-eyes at Shizuku at parties, huh?” 

“I would think it’s sweet,” Pakunoda said patiently. 

“Let him stare. He’s not doing anything,” Shizuku said. 

“It’s gross. He’s probably thinking gross things,” Machi said, the snarl in her lip softening. Paku petted her unruly pigtails. 

“I’m not thinking anything gross,” Hisoka said, although he had, in fact, been thinking of gross things as Illumi had shown Franklin the slight bulge of his quad muscle, complaining about bulking and squatting bars and protein powders. 

Sometimes Illumi was so fae-like, so strange and animalistic and inhuman, and then other times, he was pure teengaer, all the way to the bone. Hisoka couldn’t quite figure out what he liked more. 

“You okay?” Illumi whispered, coming to sit down next to Hisoka. Their thighs brushed. Hisoka licked his thumb and rubbed at a small cut on Illumi’s knee, watching the half-dried blood smear. 

“Yeah, totally fine.” 

“You drunk?” Illumi asked, and as he said it, he pried the tequila bottle out of Chrollo’s hand. 

“Tipsy,” Hisoka said. 

“Me too,” Illumi said, just before he took a swig from the tequila bottle. He was scarily good at drinking without a chaser. 

Hisoka saw his nose wrinkle and then it was done. Wordlessly, he handed him a half-full can of Sprite.

Illumi sniffed the can, peered one-eyed into it, and then took a sip. As he swallowed, Hisoka, possessed by mischief, leaned in and kissed him. 

“ _Ugh,”_ Machi said as Feitan and Phinks politely clapped. 

Chrollo lifted his head from his phone and his mouth crooked into a sad smile that Hisoka was certain he hadn’t meant for anyone to see. 

* * *

By ten, the night had reached its climax. The music was uproariously loud. A younger boy who lived on the other side of one wall timidly knocked on the door, presumably to ask them to keep it down, but Hisoka took it upon himself to open it and nearly scared the kid to death. 

“Problem?” 

“No,” he squeaked, turning on his heel to go back to his room. When Hisoka returned to the main area, he nudged at Illumi until he made room on the couch and then plopped down. 

His eyes closed and he felt Illumi’s hand drop into his hair, fingers sliding through the too-long part at the back. 

“You need a haircut,” Illumi said. 

“I like it long.” 

“It sticks out of your helmet when you play.” 

“Aw but that’s cute, isn’t it?” Illumi didn’t grace that with a response. Hisoka had learned not to take that personally. They had gotten into arguments about it before, but sometimes, Hisoka knew now, Illumi just didn’t think things needed a reply. 

Illumi’s hand kept running through his hair. He was talkative as ever, and his brightness, his presence, it was making Hisoka feel quiet. He didn’t know why, but a self-consciousness was starting to steep into him. 

Chrollo crashed into the spot next to him, an elbow digging into his side as he leaned over to yell something at Feitan. 

Chrollo, like Illumi, was in good spirits today. His eyes were sparkling so bright it looked like he’d just cried, and his mouth was ripped open in a smile. He almost never smiled with teeth, so this was nice, if disarming. 

Illumi’s hand slipped from his scalp to the nape of his neck. 

“Feitan, could I step into your room for a moment? I need to call my parents for a second.” On Illumi’s part, it was surprisingly sly. 

Feitan did a dismissive wave to say that no, he didn’t care, and then Illumi was slipping into the bedroom with one, dark glance back at Hisoka. 

Hisoka blinked, stood like a marionette jerked up by its strings, and wobbled after him. 

No one seemed to really notice, drunken and lazy. 

As soon as Hisoka got through the dark threshold, he was pushed back against the door, and Illumi’s hot, White Claw-flavored mouth crashed into his. 

“So you aren’t calling your parents? I wanted to say hi to your dear old dad,” Hisoka said, breaking away from the kiss a moment to look Illumi in the eyes. Illumi leaned forward again for another kiss, more impatient, using the entire front of his body to hold Hisoka in place. 

He blustered him with kisses, like it had been a long time, when in fact, it hadn’t. Illumi had given quite possibly the blowjob of his career yesterday in the locker rooms, after everyone else on the team, including a reluctant Chrollo, had cleared out. 

The memory of it came slamming into Hisoka’s head like a train at the wrong stop. His knees felt a little weak, and Illumi wasn’t helping with all the smothering. 

“I was thinking,” Hisoka began, conversationally, like Illumi wasn’t sucking a bruise into his neck, “you have pretty good stamina, don’t you?” 

“What?” 

“During sex,” Hisoka said, chin tilting up in thought, “you always last longer than I do. You last a long fucking time, actually. But then, once you come, you’re done for the night.” 

“Would you keep your voice down?” Illumi hissed. “Everyone is right outside.” 

“ _Me,_ on the other hand. Well, I feel like I definitely come quicker, but my refractory period is shorter.” 

“Hisoka--”

“So I was thinking, why don’t we see how quickly you can bounce back?” 

“What are you even talking about?” 

“I’ll make you come--” Machi laughed loudly in the other room, as Chrollo and Phinks both shouted at her. “--and then I’ll keep going.” 

“Keep going,” Illumi echoed. He had stopped his ministrations and was staring at Hisoka with an endearingly confused face: one eyebrow quirked, his mouth kiss-swollen but pursed.

“There’s a word for it, actually.” 

“You’ve done your research,” Illumi said, allowing himself a small, teasing smile.

Hisoka’s brows pinched together. It was so annoying how he took pleasure in making Hisoka feel bad about things, like a bully in middle school. 

“Stop that.” 

“Stop what? I’m not even--” 

“Stop being mean on purpose. We don’t have to do it, you know. I was just _saying_ \--” 

“What’s the word for it?” Illumi asked, raising his voice to interrupt Hisoka. There was something that wavered in his tone, a trepidation that turned the air in the room thick. 

“The word for what?” 

“For… keeping on going.” 

“Oh,” and Hisoka’s expression cleared and he smiled. “It’s called overstimulation.” 

“Okay,” Illumi said weakly. 

“Sometimes people cry from it.” 

“I won’t,” Illumi sniffed. 

“‘Cause you’re different,” Hisoka said, amused now. Illumi flashed him a twin smile. 

“‘Cause I’m better.” 

“Okay, hotshot. Take your clothes off then, and be quiet, because they’ll definitely hear us.” 

“They probably already have,” Illumi said with a shrug, kicking off his shoes and undoing the buttons of his uniform. 

“What are they doing in there?” Shizuku asked, her voice dangerously close to the door. 

“Illumi said he was calling his mom, or something.” 

“They’re definitely fucking on our bed,” Feitan’s cool voice drifted in. 

“Eh,” Phinks said, sounding unbothered. 

Illumi sprawled out on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows to watch as Hisoka fished a packet of lube out of his jeans. 

“You’re not going to blow me?” 

“No.” 

“Oh.” 

Illumi didn’t even try to hide his disappointment as Hisoka drizzled lube on his palm and warmed it with his fingers. 

“Stop making that face,” Hisoka chided. 

“I’m not making any face.” Except, he was, and he knew it. 

Hisoka ran his hand up Illumi’s length, slicking it up, watching his face for a reaction. Illumi stared back blankly. This was always the precursor: a forced nonchalance about sex in general. It took Illumi a little longer to get going, but once he did, he was always made up for his slow arrival with intensity, lots and lots of intensity. 

Hisoka kneeled between Illumi’s open legs, clothes still on, already hard against his jeans. 

“One second,” Hisoka said as Illumi watched, shoving his hand into his jeans’ pocket for another packet of lube. He kept them on his person at all times. 

“I don’t think we need--oh.” Illumi faltered as Hisoka shoved his jeans and boxers down to his mid-thigh and then reached behind himself, eyes gleaming. 

_“Here?”_ Illumi hissed. 

“Sure, why not? The door is locked.” 

“All our friends are outside,” Illumi said nervously. 

“Don’t be boring.”

“Okay.” 

Hisoka pressed the first finger inside of himself and his head dropped with a shaky sigh. Illumi, underneath him, was watching with wide eyes, looking a little bit like a virgin. 

“You should be excited,” Hisoka whispered, one eye screwing shut as he pressed in a second. 

“What if someone comes in?” 

“I _told you_ , baby, the door is locked.” 

That shut Illumi up almost immediately. His head hit the pillow and he brought his forearm over his eyes as Hisoka took the hand that wasn’t fingering himself and stroking Illumi with light, cursory touches, just to maintain contact. 

“Did you plan this?” Illumi asked. “Did you know this was going to happen tonight?” 

“Maybe,” Hisoka admitted with a shrug. 

“And you think it’s fun to inconvenience me?” 

“Is this fucking inconvenient to you?” As he said it, Hisoka removed his hand from Illumi’s cock and watched it bob in a way that could only be described as baleful. 

“Sorry.” 

“You better be,” Hisoka said. That small feeling that had been squeezing at him earlier that evening, that feeling of being passed by, laughter whizzing over his head, hands grazing his shoulder to reach for a drink, it was all gone. 

Illumi was staring at him from under his arm, eyes as black as evening time, and his cock was curving up to his pale belly, a belly like the underside of a fawn, so soft and smooth and vulnerable. 

It only took a few minutes for Hisoka to deem himself ready. 

He straddled Illumi’s hips, bracing a lube-wet hand on Illumi’s chest, and pushed down with the barest of sighs. He was tempted to close his eyes, because it felt _good_ and he knew that if he opened them, Illumi would be staring at him, but he forced himself to keep them open, so he could watch Illumi’s brows knit together and his hands curl into the mattress. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka murmured, feather-light, “don’t worry about anything but feeling good.” 

“It does, it does--” 

“I want you to come, don’t make me wait.” Before Illumi could respond, he moved his hands from Illumi’s chest, to the bed, and lowered himself down for a kiss. 

It took Illumi a moment to respond, to configure his mouth in a way that wasn’t just leaving it hanging open. His hips were doing miniscule rolling motions, grinding upward half-desperately. 

Hisoka hefted his weight onto one hand and used the other to cup Illumi’s cheek, and then slide down, down, until he was grazing over Illumi’s left nipple with awful gentleness. 

At the same time, he rose up, wincing at the soreness in his quads, his glutes, his groin, from hours and hours of lacrosse, and then sank down. 

Hisoka usually came quickest with speed, a hand fisting his cock, sloppy and wet and forceful. He had tried jerking himself off slowly, when he was bored or tired or was trying to watch a show with subtitles, but it only prolonged his orgasm until it felt painful, like he was edging himself by accident. 

Illumi was the opposite. The slowness got to him.

Hisoka rolled his hips up, sank halfway down, and then came back up, agonizingly slow. Illumi moaned so softly and genuinely it was like a cry. 

Hisoka still had a hand on Illumi’s chest, grazing the skin with his fingernails in light, loving circles. 

“Tell me when something feels good, Illu,” Hisoka murmured. 

Illumi gave a short, rapid nod. 

“Did you hear me?” 

_“Yes,”_ Illumi croaked. He let his eyes crack open, to see Hisoka properly, and nearly sighed at the sight. 

He looked dangerously good, shoulders bunched to hold his weight, cock hard and grazing against his own belly. He was smiling his most self-assured, gleeful smile. 

Illumi could feel an orgasm building. He wasn’t desperately close, but everything was coming together, like Hisoka-- _Jesus Christ._

Illumi jerked like a livewire as Hisoka pinched _hard_ at his nipple, hips throwing upwards and catching Hisoka by surprise with the force. 

“ _Jesus_ , Illumi,” Hisoka hissed, still pinching Illumi’s nipple so hard that Illumi thought he would draw blood. 

_“Ah, ah, ah,_ it _hurts,_ Hisoka, it hurts--” 

“Illumi, you seriously have to be quiet,” Hisoka whispered, releasing his pinched fingers and rubbing soothingly at Illumi’s nipple with his thumb. “They’re going to hear us.” 

“Don’t care.”

“Are you close?” 

“Keep doing that,” Illumi wheezed. Hisoka felt smugness swell in his cheeks. 

He leaned in until his nose was buried against Illumi’s neck. 

“Does it feel good?” 

“You _know_ \--” 

“Are you sensitive?” 

Instead of answering, Illumi moaned, back bowing as Hisoka rubbed tight, firm circles around his nipples.

He continued like this for a few minutes, alternating between kissing Illumi to swallow down his noises, and pulling back to stare as his eyes got misty, as his cheeks got red. 

“Look at me,” Hisoka said eventually, snapping his fingers in front of Illumi’s face. Hazy black eyes rolled from one side to the other, before finally, shakily fixing themselves on Hisoka. He hiccuped pitifully. 

“Focus,” Hisoka said, smiling despite the firm furrow of his brow. “You can’t be so loud, or they’ll come in here. Got it?” 

Silence. 

“Got it?” 

Illumi grunted. 

His hips were jerking up in tiny, half-hearted motions which Hisoka sank into with a soft little sigh. In the other room, Chrollo was laughingly explaining to Franklin a story about him and Paku that Paku had utterly botched with her reaccounting. 

He kept starting and stopping, succumbing to alcoholic giggles every few seconds. 

Illumi was making sounds again, thighs trembling as he dug his heels into the bed to try to properly fuck upwards. 

“Just focus on coming,” Hisoka purred, leaning his weight forward onto his palms, nose hovering just an inch over Illumi’s, which was wrinkled with exertion. 

“I am,” Illumi hissed and it came out as shaky and wet. 

In the weeks since they had started dating, Hisoka had come to learn Illumi’s body very well. He telegraphed himself during sex, always. It was the only time where Illumi was a proper open book. 

Hisoka could tell he was about to come just by the way his eyelids kept fluttering, the way a fine whole-body tremble began to run through him, the kind of tremble that reminded Hisoka of a sports car with its gas pedal floored. 

An industrial tremble that was not meek but insistent: touch me, touch me, finish the job or else. 

Illumi made a guttural sound that Hisoka muffled with a kiss, and then he came, back arching, hips jolting up, burying himself a little deeper into Hisoka, who could _feel it_ as he spilled into the condom. 

_“Hisoka, Hisoka_ \--” 

Illumi’s wrists jerked against Hisoka’s grip, but it was half-hearted. Hisoka lapped at his open, panting mouth like a dog, smiling at his own cleverness for coming up with this. 

Illumi dazedly looked him over, recognizing the gleeful glint in his eye. 

“G’off,” Illumi slurred. 

“This is the _keep going_ part, baby.” 

Phinks and Feitan were doing their signature party trick where Feitan would line Phinks up against the dartboard and step about ten feet away, and then proceed to give Phinks a crowd of darts around his head. 

Feitan had only ever nicked Phinks once, and he had a little scar on his ear to prove it. 

Hisoka could hear it for what it was because Chrollo was pleading them to stop and Franklin was mumbling something about preemptively finding bandages. 

Illumi had gone half-soft inside Hisoka, and he was wincing with every breath, making this little uncomfortable face that Hisoka wanted to kiss away. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“No,” Illumi said, “it’s just-- _ah_ \--sensitive.” Hisoka leaned back on his palms, staring Illumi down with his chin tucked to his chest. 

“I’m gonna get off,” Hisoka decided, easing himself up onto his knees and pulling the condom off Illumi briskly. 

Illumi winced and his knees knocked together with sensitivity. 

He watched warily as Hisoka tied the condom off and threw it into Phinks and Feitan’s trash can--there were probably condoms in there already, they wouldn’t notice. 

Illumi rolled over onto his side, like he was about to sleep, and Hisoka scoffed. 

“We’re not done, turn back.” 

Before Illumi could move, Hisoka grabbed his closer thigh and tugged it open, rolling him onto his back once more. 

He was flagging but not totally soft. 

Hisoka spit on his hand, smirking as Illumi’s gaze followed the action with trepidation, and then pressed his entire palm against Illumi’s crotch. 

_“Ah.”_

“Hurts?” 

“Stop looking so fucking happy about it, maybe,” Illumi hissed, cheeks burning red. 

“I asked if it hurt,” Hisoka said, schooling his expression into something blank, or at least trying to. 

“Not pain, like--not pain,” Illumi said. “It’s just too… much.” 

“So eloquent.” 

“You should be nicer to me, this is a favor.” 

“Oh, don’t you even start--”

The music in the other room suddenly shut off and both boys froze. 

And then the other room was filled with a chorus of _bye, Franklin! Goodnight Franklin!_

“Franklin’s going to bed,” Illumi said as the front door opened and closed. 

“I could hear that,” Hisoka said dryly. Without thinking, he squeezed his palm and Illumi had just enough time to bite down on his arm before he _squealed_ , thighs clamping together.

“Open your legs.” 

Hisoka pinched his inner thigh and Illumi’s hips rolled in the air uselessly. 

“Open your legs, Illumi, I’m dead serious.” 

Like a hand-cranked machine, Illumi’s legs parted and fell onto Feitan and Phinks’ bedding. 

“The most you’ve come in one night with me was twice, do you remember that?” Hisoka’s voice was gentle again, still stroking Illumi’s soft cock as his ribcage was wracked with almost-sobs. 

“I was-- _hiccup_ \--drunk and it was spaced out over two hours.” 

“Semantics.” 

“It’s starting to-- _hn, hngh…”_

“What, Illumi?” Hisoka asked, but he found he didn’t need an answer. Illumi’s cock was filling out in his hand already. 

“Look at you,” Hisoka said, genuinely delighted. He leaned forward on one arm and kissed Illumi's slack mouth with all the energy he had. Their teeth clacked and then Illumi’s mouth was open, so soft and wet that Hisoka was briefly transported to their locker room, knees trembling as Illumi ran his tongue up his length. 

“You are so perfect,” he whispered, lost in it. 

Illumi shook his head, though Hisoka wasn’t sure if he was protesting his words or his touch. Even though he was nearly fully hard now, it seemed Illumi’s sensitivity hadn’t gone away in the slightest. 

Every stroke drew out tortured sounds, high and rasped and desperate. 

“Illumi, baby, _please keep it down.”_

 _“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,”_ Illumi mumbled. His hands dug into Hisoka’s back, through his t-shirt.

“Ow, ow, Illumi, your nails!” 

“ _Please, please, m’gonna come.”_ Illumi was not going to come, but there was so much sensation building up in his stomach, it was like his nerve endings didn't know what to do with themselves. His back arched and his dick brushed against Hisoka’s knuckles with such raw force it made tears come to his eyes. 

“ _Gotta stop, gotta stop touching me…”_

“Illumi, I can stop if you want me to?” 

_“Hnngh.”_

“I can stop?” 

“Fuck you, Hisoka, seriously fuck you, I’m getting you back for this.” Illumi’s sudden and aggressive lucidness was like a slap to the face. 

“Don’t get angry at me!” Hisoka said indignantly. 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Illumi sobbed. He hiccuped wetly against Hisoka’s shoulder and Hisoka instantly felt bad. 

“Okay, okay, darling, do you want to stop?” 

“I want it to _feel good_.” 

“You’re close, Illumi, I can tell.” 

“ _It feels--_ ” 

“You’re so close, let me get you there,” Hisoka whispered, pressing tender kisses to his wet cheeks. His hand stroked at the same gentle pace. 

When Illumi’s hair began an obstacle to kissing his face, Hisoka dipped down, and set his mouth to better use. 

When he latched onto Illumi’s nipple, the sound that Illumi’s made was so loud that Hisoka, on instinct, reached up and clapped a hand over his mouth. 

Immediately after, Illumi fell quiet, stomach twitching, eyes screwing shut. 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Hisoka breathed against his chest. Illumi was trying to say something against his hand. He could feel the hot, wet gusts of air, the press of tongue. 

“-- _isoka, Hisoka, Hisoka, I’m gonna_ \--” 

Illumi’s second orgasm of the night took both of them a little bit by surprise.

Hisoka watched, wide-eyed, as Illumi painted his stomach with cum, hands fisted in the sheets. 

He went limp in the aftermath, head lolling in satisfaction. 

“Two is a good number,” Illumi croaked. 

“You’re so cute,” Hisoka said reaching forward and grinding the heel of his palm against Illumi’s soft cock. 

Illumi wailed and his body twisted until he ended up on his stomach. Hisoka found that he didn’t mind this position. He could still access Illumi’s cock with a hand between his legs from behind. 

“One more time, Illumi, you’ve got it,” he said softly. 

Illumi buried his face into one of the pillows, hips grinding into the mattress only to jerk away moments after. 

He was properly crying now, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, hair sticking to his face. 

_“I don’t think I can do another,”_ he sobbed. 

“One more,” Hisoka said again, whispering it into his ear, “one more time, for me.” Illumi shook his head, teeth bared into a tight grimace. 

Hisoka wedged his forearm underneath Illumi and skimmed his chest until he found one of his nipples. 

He plucked at it once, flinching in surprise at Illumi’s rough, guttural moan, and then kept going until it was a hardened bud, and every touch, no matter how gentle, was making Illumi curl in on himself, trying to hide. 

Illumi’s third orgasm seemed more pain than pleasure. He was soft when he did it, soft and so dazed and overwhelmed that Hisoka was genuinely considering putting a stop to it. 

But then Illumi’s thighs were clamping together and he made a sound like a choked off scream, and Hisoka’s already-wet hand went wetter. 

The music in the other room was playing so loudly that Hisoka was almost certain they didn’t hear that, but then, Illumi hadn’t exactly been quiet about it. 

He was coming down slowly, in stops and starts, stomach convulsing like he was sick. 

In the aftermath, his body was slack and gleaming, the concave flex of his waist as he twisted partly away from Hisoka, the cut of one shoulder, hunched upward to hide his face. Hisoka, under normal circumstances, would have immediately started teasing him, but he seemed like he needed a breather. 

_“Fuck,”_ Illumi panted finally, thighs shifting gingerly. 

“You okay?” Hisoka whispered. 

_“Fucking--Jesus Christ.”_

“Do they hurt?” Hisoka asked, rubbing his thumbs in circles around Illumi’s sore, red nipples. 

“ _Everything_ hurts,” Illumi snarled, turning onto his stomach only to whimper and curl sideways instead.

The rest of it was that: Illumi making tiny, exhausted sounds to himself as Hisoka gingerly tried to touch him without being overbearing. 

“But was it good?” Hisoka whispered. 

“Yeah,” Illumi whispered back. 

“And the party’s still going on.” 

“Mm,” Illumi grunted, eyes drifting closed. 

“Aw, are you falling asleep?”

“Mhm.” 

“ _Illumi_ ,” Hisoka whined, pressing all his weight down on Illumi and smothering him. 

“We can’t stay here forever, you know. This isn’t our room.”

“Let’s sleep,” Illumi said drowsily. 

“Have some water.” Hisoka held a red plastic cup to Illumi’s mouth and made sure he drained it. The thought of leaving this bed was inconceivable to Illumi. Feitan and Phinks used the same detergent as Hisoka because their sheets smelled like him. 

The bedding was black and surprisingly luxurious, the kind of bedding that someone who took their lifestyle very seriously would have. 

Illumi didn’t want to leave. 

“Quick nap,” Hisoka assented a moment later, curling against Illumi’s body like a cat. Illumi pulled the duvet up over the both of them and squeezed Hisoka’s body against his. 

He was cold, and Hisoka, for once, was a furnace, warm and solid and sweet-smelling. 

“Quick nap,” Illumi echoed, already drifting off to sleep. 

“I don’t hear anything,” Phinks whispered. 

“Move, let me listen.” Feitan pushed at his back and then pressed his ear to the door. 

“Do you hear anything?” Phinks asked. 

“I can’t listen if you’re talking.” 

“It’s quiet, I’m going in.” 

Phinks turned the knob gingerly and pushed the door open, poking his head into the room. 

He could see a bundle on his and Feitan’s bed, about teenage boy-sized, times two, and it was rising and falling with the slow unmistakable cadence of slumber.

“They’re asleep,” Phinks said, blinking. 

“Does it look like they had sex?” 

“Dunno, they’re asleep.” 

“Move, so I can look.” Feitan poked his head in. The strip of light from the open door fell on a mussed red-haired head, which shifted slightly, groaning. 

“They’re asleep,” Feitan echoed. 

“Yeah, I told you that, idiot. Where do we sleep?” 

“I guess Hisoka’s room,” Feitan said, then he sighed, head knocking back. “Ugh, we have to go all the way over there?” 

“We could wake them up?” Phinks suggested, though his nose wrinkled at the prospect.

“I’m not even tired. Let’s go walk in the woods.” Without waiting for a response, Feitan grabbed his lighter coat, shrugged it on, and stepped into his sneakers. 

Phinks hung in the doorway of their bedroom, head cocked. 

“What’s in the woods?” 

“I dunno, trees? Don’t be stupid, Phinks.” 

“Yeah, okay. They better not sleep in, though. If our room isn’t empty when we get back, I’ll drag Hisoka out myself.” 

“Okay,” Feitan said. He watched, head against the door jam, as Phinks stumbled around their messy suite looking for his shoes, expression very subtly warm. 

“They’re under your desk.” 

“I looked there.” 

“That’s _my_ desk, Phinks.” 

“You must actually be high right now, _that’s_ my desk, _this_ is your desk.” Phinks dramatically pointed first to one desk, then to the other. Feitan took a moment, blearily staring between the two pieces of identical furniture. 

“Oh, you’re right.” 

“Yeah, duh,” Phinks said, finding his shoes and hopping one-legged to put them on. 

Feitan let Phinks through the door first and then let it slam shut. 

* * *

Hisoka woke up because he couldn’t breathe. 

Illumi had most of his weight, which was considerable, on Hisoka’s chest, blissfully unaware of Hisoka’s wheezing. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka whispered, trying to roll him off.

Illumi groaned and hid his face in a pillow. 

“We’ve gotta get up, this isn’t our room. Also, we need to shower. Come on.” 

“Ugh,” Illumi said, easing himself upright and yawning so big that Hisoka could see down the sleeve of his throat. 

“Let’s go then,” Illumi said with a sigh, spilling out of bed and stumbling around for his clothes. Hisoka watched for a few seconds, transfixed. 

In the feeble moonlight, Illumi’s skin turned almost-silver, and whenever he moved, the light caught the slide of muscle perfectly. 

“Come on,” he said, pulling his pants up his waist. 

Hisoka blinked out of his reverie. 

“Sorry, coming.” Unlike Illumi, he had left all of his clothes in a pile on Phinks’ dresser, so he was dressed and ready to go much quicker. 

Hisoka did a half-assed job at making the bed, which Illumi scoffed at. 

“You’ve probably never made a bed in your life,” Hisoka said, jabbing a finger at him. Illumi went cross-eyed to look at it and bared his teeth in indignation. 

“Of _course_ I have. Don’t be stupid.” 

“Oh yeah? When.” 

“I’ve done it before, fuck off.” 

Sneaking out of the dorm was easy. Like country mice, they scurried down the campus path back to Hisoka’s room. Illumi wanted to shower. He wanted to shower and press himself against Hisoka again, and then wake up to his soft, freckled face, squished against his pillow. 

When they made it back to Hisoka’s room, they didn’t bother fighting for the shower. They took it together, except there was not an ounce of sex or romance. 

It was intimate but purposeful. Hisoka pressed himself against the cold tiled wall as Illumi rinsed the conditioned out of the ends of his hair, and then Illumi stepped back so Hisoka could wash the soap off his face. 

“Can I borrow underwear?” 

“Mhm, you know where it is.” 

“Thank you.” 

Illumi stepped into a pair of Christmas-themed boxers with snowmen on them and crawled into bed, taking his favorite side, by the window. 

“I can’t believe we christened Phinks and Feitan’s bed,” Hisoka whispered. 

“Your fault,” Illumi grunted out, already half asleep. 

“It’s four in the morning,” Hisoka realized, checking his phone with half-open eyes. 

“We can sleep until noon and then go to the library to do work.” It was a surprisingly lucid plan to come from Illumi at this hour. 

“Okay. Goodnight. Kiss me.” 

Blindly, Illumi propped himself up on his elbows and pursed his lips, too tired to open his eyes. Hisoka kissed him, chaste and sweet, and then they both sagged into the mattress and fell into a long, easy slumber that would take them well into Sunday. 

* * *

The next morning, Illumi complained that his dick felt like it was going to fall off the entire time Hisoka brushed his teeth. 

“Sorry,” Hisoka said around a toothbrush. 

“You aren’t,” Illumi muttered, rooting around for his clothes. 

“Can we do it again sometime?” 

“Obviously.” 

It took them longer than expected to drag themselves to the dining hall. When they got there, it was mostly empty. Hisoka and Illumi toasted some bagels and slathered cream cheese on their open faces and then took them to the library. 

“We should have started work yesterday,” Hisoka mused, looking at his assignments on his laptop. 

“Do you have any essays to write?” Illumi asked, referring to Hisoka’s side business. 

“One,” Hisoka said with a shrug, “and it’s for a junior. It’ll be easy.” 

“Good.” Illumi dropped into the seat next to Hisoka with a sigh. It was their favorite spot: a pair of low-to-the-ground leather chairs that were angled towards a coffee table.

It was tucked away on a balcony overlooking the main atrium of the library, hard to spot if you didn’t know where to look.

About an hour into their studying, and one Starbuck’s run later, they were interrupted.

“What are you guys doing?” Chrollo asked, loudly dragging a wooden chair behind him and setting it up next to Hisoka.

“Seriously considering dropping out of high school,” Hisoka said with a sigh. 

Illumi grunted in agreement, sipping unenthusiastically at the caramel monstrosity that Hisoka had convinced him to order.

“What are you writing?” Chrollo peered over Hisoka’s shoulder and squinted at his laptop screen.

“Oh, I already finished this essay,” Chrollo said. 

“Shut up,” Illumi replied tonelessly, also working on that same essay.

“It was so easy, are you guys stupid?” 

“Chrollo,” Hisoka began, leaning back in his chair with a grave exhale, “it would be really nice if you just _shut up_.” 

“I could send you my essay,” Crollo offered, undaunted by Hisoka’s foul mood. 

“Do you not have work?” Illumi asked incredulously. The hood of his sweatshirt was up, making him look a bit like a nun in a habit. He was wearing the same Crocs that Hisoka had seen at his house in the mudroom. Hisoka found them a bit embarrassing, but embarrassing in the way that made him smile fondly every time he saw them.

If Illumi had been wearing them ironically, it would have been better, but he just thought they were comfortable and looked nice.

Disturbing stuff. 

“I finished most of it,” Chrollo said, head flopping over the back of the chair he was in. 

“Makes sense,” Hisoka muttered, typing vigorously. 

“But I do have a test to study for,” Chrollo said with a sigh. 

“You should go do that.” 

“I’ll do it here.” 

And with that, Chrollo cracked open a biology textbook and began, very loudly, taking notes: humming and sighing and murmuring to himself.

Hisoka glanced over at Illumi, to see if he was just as bothered, and was delighted to find Illumi already looking at him, his expression violently exasperated. 

They locked eyes for a few seconds, lips twitching in twin smiles. Hisoka suddenly wanted to launch himself across the table at Illumi, wrestle him into his arms, pull his hair until he shouted. 

Chrollo sighed dramatically. 

“This doesn’t even make sense. Hisoka, does this make sense?” 

Illumi broke the eye-contact first, returning his focus to his half-written essay. He had a brand-new Macbook Pro, huge, with all the bells and whistles. 

“Hisoka, look.” Chrollo slammed his textbook in front of Hisoka and pointed at a diagram. Hisoka blinked blearily. 

“I don’t even take biology.” 

“You’re smart, though,” Chrollo said. Illumi made a derisive noise, which Hisoka glared at. 

“I don’t know this stuff, Chro. Can you please be quiet? Illumi and I actually have shit to do.”

“Did you just start work? It’s almost three.” 

“We had a late night,” Illumi said neatly as Hisoka bit back a sound of amusement. Chrollo’s cheeks reddened. 

“Oh.” 

“And the library,” Illumi added good-naturedly, “is supposed to be quiet.” 

“Sorry.” 

“I can help you with general bio, though. I had to take it last year so I could take marine bio this year.” 

Chrollo pulled his chair up to Illumi and planted his textbook on the coffee table. Illumi gathered his knees under his body and tucked his hair behind his ears, brows furrowing in a look of concentration. 

Hisoka would never get sick of it, looking at his face. 

“Have you learned this yet?” 

“I don’t think so,” Chrollo said, sounding slightly miserable. 

“You take really nice notes,” Illumi said quietly, skimming through the pages of Chrollo’s notebook. 

“I have nice handwriting.” 

“I know.” 

The memory of the letter hit all three of them like a slap to the face. For a second, the library-silence was replaced with lip-chewing-silence. Hisoka glanced at Illumi and for the first time in a long time, felt a black uncertainty creep up his throat. 

“Oh, right,” Chrollo said with a light laugh. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. Illumi held Hisoka’s gaze for a few seconds longer, an attempt, Hisoka guessed, to show that he was not angry. That all was well. 

“I can try to teach you,” Illumi offered, but he sounded skeptical. “My handwriting is really bad, though.” 

“That’s okay.” 

“Can I use your pen?” 

Hisoka found himself peering over as Illumi drew a careful, but shoddy, diagram on Chrollo’s notebook. 

“Write your essay,” Illumi chided fondly. 

“I don’t want to,” Hisoka sighed. 

“I believe in you.” It was said in an amused, sort of mocking way, but then Illumi glanced over at him, made eye-contact, and the truth of the words hit Hisoka in a slightly embarrassing way. 

He was getting teary-eyed in the library at three in the afternoon. 

“Okay,” Hisoka whispered to himself, opening his laptop and starting to type. “Okay.” 

* * *

The knock was so sharp that Illumi mistakenly thought it was his alarm. He rolled over in bed and blindly grabbed at his phone, only for his bedroom door to swing open. 

“Illumi, are you awake?” It was seven in the morning, but Silva looked as put together as ever. His hair was tied back in a silver knot. He wasn’t in a suit, just tailored track pants and a long sleeve shirt, but he commanded himself like it was a business meeting. 

“Barely,” Illumi croaked. 

“I’ve made you breakfast, come downstairs. Big game today.” 

Illumi knew it was a big game. He went to sleep thinking about it, probably dreamed of it all night, and the moment he woke, nausea had swelled in his stomach. 

The thought of breakfast made it a little worse. 

“One of the maids left your uniform folded on the kitchen table. Come on, I don’t want the driver to have to speed to get you to school on time.” 

Illumi roused himself, standing on heavy feet and staggering to his closet. He grabbed the closest t-shirt he could find and a pair of sweatpants he could easily put shorts on underneath, and then followed the wide expanse of his father’s back down the stairs. 

“How do you feel about this team?” 

“They’re good,” Illumi said with a clear of his throat. He jumped the last three stairs and landed with a thump on the hardwood. Silva glanced back at him and raised an eyebrow. 

“You feel confident?” 

“I feel how I always feel.” 

Illumi flinched as his hair was ruffled. 

“And is that confident?” 

“I guess.” 

The kitchen smelled intensely of turkey bacon and eggs. 

Silva already had a plate set up with three strips of the bacon, two poached eggs, and two slices of whole wheat toast slathered with cultured butter. 

“Thanks, dad,” Illumi said, swallowing down his nausea to stab a fork into one of the eggs. The yolk oozed out like blood. 

“Illumi,” Silva said, but his voice was quiet and Illumi was so tired--

“Illumi,” Silva said, sharper, this time, grabbing Illumi’s chin and wrenching it upwards. The smooth crescents of his fingernails dug into Illumi’s skin. 

“Listen to me when I speak to you,” Silva said softly. “I am going to be watching the game on the livestream. You better play well, you understand?” 

Illumi wanted him to let go. He could feel his throat getting thick with panic, but he schooled his expression into what he hoped was blankness. 

He heard Kikyo soft, purposeful footsteps on the stairs. In about five seconds, she would walk into the kitchen, see what was going on, and immediately turn around. 

He could smell the commercial sweetness of her perfume as she came around the corner, could hear the soft uptick of her breath, and then the squeak of her bare heel as she spun on it and went back up the stairs.

Silva’s grip tightened. 

“Got it?” 

“Yes, dad, I got it.” 

“You looked slow last game.” 

“I’m not slow,” Illumi hissed. Silva tugged Illumi’s head closer, pale eyes roaming over Illumi’s face. Upstairs, Kikyo closed her bedroom door behind her. Silva and Illumi both glanced in that direction, and then at each other.

“Finish your breakfast.” 

* * *

Hisoka could not remember the last time he had seen Illumi run so much in a game. The team they were playing knew how to handle them. They knew that Illumi controlled the middle, so they tired him out by throwing an extra man up front and forcing Illumi to track back and defend. Most of the first half had been him sprinting down the field to win the ball in order to send it up the field to Hisoka, except half the time, Hisoka was either viciously checked by an overly aggressive defender, or it was intercepted, because the middle was empty because Illumi was in the back trying to win the ball. 

And so it went. 

One of the middies on the other team suddenly stole it from a defender who had been playing with the ball for too long. Illumi, who had been hurtling up the field, expecting it to go in that direction, had to stop and run back, as the middie sent it to a forward on his team. 

The other team had just performed a deadly breakaway, and most of the defense on Illumi and Hisoka’s team was exhausted. 

Which left only Chrollo between the charging forward and the goal. 

“COME OUT!” Coach screamed. It made sense. If Chrollo came out of the goal and took the forward one-on-one, he might have a better chance of blocking the shot. 

But if he miscalculated and got beat, the forward would have an open goal in front of him. 

Illumi could see Chrollo waver, the gray of his eyes flashing in paralyzing thought. Coach was still screaming, and a few of the exhausted defenders were screaming at him, too. 

The forward flew down the last length of the field, and like a bull being let out of it’s pen, Chrollo finally stepped forward, hunkered down as if he was braving a storm. 

There was a loud, clacking sound, and a gasp, from one of the other players, and then Chrollo was stumbling forward, nearly stepping directly on top of the forward, who was sprawled out on the ground. He shifted his stick and the white ball that sat inside the pocket flashed like a beacon. 

Illumi felt himself sag as the rest of the team screamed in relief.

Chrollo stood there, chest heaving, looking very serious, almost angry, but he didn’t delay. With one cursory look, he hurtled the ball at a defender, who caught it and delivered it into the middle. 

The whistle blew a moment later, a score of zero on both sides, still. 

* * *

When Coach called in the team at half, Illumi was the only one who didn’t come. He strode, very quickly, past the bench into the treeline about fifty yards from the field. The further he got, the slower and stiffer his movements became. Hisoka glanced at Coach once and then, without waiting for permission, trotted after him. 

“Illumi,” he called quizzically, only to stop and curse as Illumi dropped to his knees and proceeded to hurl his guts out. 

It wasn’t uncommon for someone on the team to vomit out of exertion, but Hisoka had never seen Illumi do it. 

It reminded him of that awful day, of Illumi’s naked body in the locker rooms, painted up the length with bruises. 

“Are you okay?” 

There was a lull in the throwing up, it seemed. Illumi panted a few times, his face flushed so red it looked like he was crying, and then nodded his head, short and rapid. 

“I’ll feel better when it’s out.” 

“I think that’s for food poisoning, Illumi. You just need to rest now.” 

Illumi tried to throw up again, but he had nothing left. All that came was a trail of drool from his lips. 

“We’re going to lose,” he rasped. 

“We’ll play them again in the championships.” 

“We’re going to lose,” Illumi sneered, still keeled over. 

“It’s one game.” 

_“I_ _fucking hate losing.”_

“I love you.” 

Illumi choked on what must have been a mixture of bile and spit. He fell from his palms to his elbows and groaned. 

Hisoka waited for him to say something. He would have expected to feel nervous, but all he felt was certainty. He was telling the truth. He loved him. 

It wasn’t like Illumi’s answer was going to change that.

“Why are you saying this to me now?” Illumi finally gritted out. He sounded pained. 

Hisoka leaned in and smiled. 

“Well, you see, I sewed it into a sweatshirt, all by myself, and I was going to tell you that way, but--” 

“Shut up,” Illumi hissed. When he lifted his head, Hisoka was shocked to see his eyes were wet with tears. They glistened, catching the full-breasted afternoon light like the ribbed edges of a penny. 

“Are you making fun of me?” Illumi’s voice was shot to hell, from the throwing up, and his skin was blotchily pink at his cheeks. 

“No,” Hisoka said slowly. 

Coach whistled for them both. 

“You don’t have to say it back,” Hisoka added, and he meant it. He squatted down besides Illumi and grabbed his forearms. 

“Up you get.” 

Illumi stood and immediately sagged. 

“You don’t need to start this half,” Hisoka said, dragging him towards the bench. Coach and the rest of the team watched nervously as Illumi collapsed down and numbly accepted a water bottle. 

“I can play,” he rasped to Coach. 

Coach made a scoffing sound. 

“Give it a few minutes. We can start without you.” 

Illumi looked about two planets away. His brows were furrowed in an expression that Hisoka couldn’t quite place. 

“Hisoka, let’s go,” Coach said. Hisoka wavered by the bench, watching as a freshman handed Illumi another bottle of water, and then he shook his head and trotted back onto the field, ignoring the tremble of his legs and the awful lightness in his stomach. 

* * *

After ten minutes of being hammered by the other team, Illumi was subbed in. If Hisoka didn’t know better, he would say he looked rejuvenated. 

Illumi glanced backwards at an exhausted Chrollo, who, to his credit, had been the only thing keeping the score sheet clean this half, and threw him a thumbs up. After, instead of finding his spot in the center, he jogged up to where Hisoka was. 

It was incredible the way he moved, as light and sharp as a well-bred horse, even after being absolutely wrung out. Illumi hefted his stick into his other hand and stopped just in front of Hisoka. 

To an outside eye, it looked like one captain speaking to another, an expected thing. But then, Illumi reached forward and tangled his fingers into the metal cage of Hisoka’s helmet and _tugged_ , jerking Hisoka’s whole head forward so that Illumi had an inch or two of height on him. 

Their helmets clacked together. 

“I love you, too.” 

Before Hisoka could so much as exhale, Illumi was backpedalling to his position and tapped his stick to the turf. 

Hisoka felt his cheeks bloom with an indescribable heat, so hot it was like blood was coming up through his pores. 

Faintly, he heard a whistle blow, and then movement surged around him, and then he was back in his own head, tearing down the field. 

They would lose. 

Even with Illumi back in the middle, even with Chrollo in the goal, even with him up front, it wouldn’t be enough this time. Hisoka didn’t think this other team was better, but they knew how to handle all their plays. 

They were being handled. 

They would lose, they would lose in a dogfight match. This was something to be angry about, something to throw your helmet down on the ground over, so why couldn’t Hisoka stop smiling? 

The other team scored a goal with ten minutes left and then they hunkered down to defend. Hisoka and the other forwards ran themselves ragged to try to score, but couldn’t. 

Coach gathered them on the real grass just near the edge of the woods and scanned the lineup of pink cheeks and bleary eyes. 

Illumi had ice packs on both thighs. Hisoka had one on that knee of his. They were flanking Chrollo, who was methodically unwrapping the tape around his fingers, shoulders hunched with dismay. 

It was a shame. He had played so well. 

“We can’t win every game,” Coach said calmly. He wasn’t angry. This team they had played was very good. 

“We will play them again in the finals. We still qualify for the championships. Don’t fucking worry, okay?” Chrollo picked at the patch of wild clover that stuck up between his spread legs. 

“Captains?” 

Illumi opened his mouth to say something, but Hisoka interrupted. 

“The defense needed to be better.” Someone from the back hissed out an offended breath. “I know that the offense did too, I know that we needed to score, but we were alone up there because our middies were defending for you. It needs to be more organized, it needs to be sharper. You need to work harder and track back. Illumi shouldn’t be the one sprinting to cover _your_ mark. The forwards need the middies to play with up front.” Hisoka felt giddiness and frustration tear at him like a pair of dogs.

“Hisoka,” Chrollo murmured in warning. 

“And Chrollo shouldn’t be touching the ball more than a handful of times in a game. He should be _bored_ back there. Our goalie should never be the star player of the game. That means we failed.”

Hisoka rubbed at the redness in his cheeks. 

“At the end of the day,” Illumi said quietly, after a minute of silence had passed, “we lost. There is nothing left to do that can change that. But, we will be playing them again, and if we don’t _fuck_ ourselves over before then, then I expect we’ll be playing them in the finals.” 

“They’re _so_ good,” Chrollo muttered, head dropping in his hands. 

“The defense plays dirty,” Illumi said. “They’re overly aggressive when the ref isn’t looking.” 

“You would know,” Hisoka said, to the muted laughter of the team. 

“The ref was shitty,” Coach agreed. “But we are fine, okay? It was one loss. And Hisoka and Illumi are both right. Chrollo saved our asses way too many times today--” Chrollo tugged a bunch of clovers from the ground, “and we will play this team again. Next time, let’s win, yeah?” 

“Yes, Coach,” the team replied in a tired chorus. 

* * *

Illumi felt Hisoka’s eyes on his back like sunspots. He and Chrollo were walking a few feet behind Illumi, lugging one of the water coolers in tandem. It had still been only early afternoon when the bus spit them out on campus after the game. The team dispersed in waves. 

The juniors and sophomores darted off to shower and presumably pass out until evening, and the freshmen and seniors stayed for bootlicking and out of obligation respectively. 

Hisoka and Chrollo passed the cooler to a pair of freshmen who accepted it with quiet, reverent thanks, and then they waited on a bench outside of the athletic building for Illumi to deposit his gear in his locker. 

“The trees are blossoming,” Chrollo murmured. “It’s so pretty.” 

“You’re so boring,” Hisoka said, head tilting back. 

“You agree with me,” Chrollo countered with a smile, “you think they’re pretty, too.”

“I do not. They’re just flowers.” 

“Show me your camera roll, then.” 

“No.” 

“Pussy.” 

Chrollo shoved his hand in Hisoka’s sweatshirt pocket as Hisoka screeched in protest. 

As they tussled, Illumi emerged from the athletic building in his usual attire: a big sweatshirt and athletic shorts. His Crocs were back, sockless, and he had four nude bandaids on his left knee, from where he must have fallen in the game at some point. 

“How do you two still have the energy?” 

“Nice sweatshirt,” Hisoka shot back, feeling his cheeks burn even as he said it. Illumi looked down at himself and turned his sleeves. The stitched red heart and the words--Hisoka almost couldn’t look--were just visible between the folds of the overly large sweatshirt. 

“Thanks,” Illumi said, staring at Hisoka with a bravery that Hisoka did not share. Chrollo glanced between the two of them and then stood with a brisk sigh. 

“Let’s go. I’m hungry.” 

“Me, too,” Illumi said. 

“Dining hall?” Hisoka asked, thinking of a high-ceilinged formal hall with wood floors and wood tables, dark and polished, blue ceramic plates piled high with food. How strange his life was here, how incomparable. 

As they walked, the sun filtered through the blossoming trees overhead. Light dappled the sidewalk beneath their feet, swaying like the reflections of a swimming pool. Unbeknownst to each other, Hisoka and Illumi both felt forlorn sighs escape their mouths, as spring, like some behemoth cloud, began to glide above and past them. 

And when the cloud was gone, it would be blue-sky summer for as far as the eye could see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading and as always, comments are the air i breathe, i'd really love to hear what u all think!!
> 
> until the next update, peace! 
> 
> my twitter here: https://twitter.com/ohofcourses


	15. The Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lacrosse season is coming to an end. Chrollo and Hisoka go swimming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all, sorry for the growing gaps between updates. i've been both struggling to write and trying to stall the ending of this fic because I am so attached to it LOL
> 
> anyways, pls enjoy!

Chrollo and Hisoka stood side-by-side in their boxers, shivering in the cool, early-morning air.

Illumi, who was wearing his school uniform, collared shirt buttoned up to the neck, pants creased, stared unamusedly. He had the rest of the lacrosse team standing behind him, and though it wasn’t purposeful, it looked a bit like he was the captain of a ship, watching with his crew as two stowaways were cast overboard. 

Chrollo glanced back at Illumi, looking very reproachful, but Illumi couldn’t be bothered to feel bad. He and Hisoka knew how things worked by now. Every season, the coach kept track of how many practices the players on the team missed. The player with the most absences had to swim across the pond in their boxers, there are back. 

Hisoka had been the reigning champion three years in a row. 

This year, Chrollo and Hisoka were miraculously tied. 

The younger players on the team had been mystified that  _ Chrollo  _ of all people had missed so much practice, but none of the older players batted an eye. Though they showed it in very different ways, Hisoka and Chrollo both possessed an almost disturbing lack of respect for authority.

Illumi, who was actually really good at being told what to do, didn’t understand it. 

“I don’t get why it has to be a race,” Chrollo said tiredly. Hisoka, his arms wrapped around himself, skin goosebumped, smiled sideways at Chrollo. 

“Why shouldn’t it be?” 

“Because it just doesn’t make sense.” 

Illumi was pretty sure that Chrollo was actually a very quick swimmer, and was trying to give Hisoka an easy way out, but Hisoka, in true form, wasn’t having it. 

“We’re racing,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with second place.” And without waiting for Chrollo, he dived in, his pale body sliding into the water like a scalpel. 

Chrollo cursed, steeled himself, and then jumped in after him. 

It was clear a minute into their race that Illumi’s suspicions had been correct. Hisoka’s bulk worked against him in the water. He was heavier and slower, certainly powerful, but like a big gray ice-breaking barge.

Chrollo’s slimmer build made it much easier for him to cut through the glassy black pond water. 

They both reached the other end of the pond at more or less the same time, Hisoka’s initial lead nearly gone. 

The rest of the team behind Illumi tittered and murmured. 

Chrollo was starting to overtake Hisoka, though it wasn’t clear if Hisoka had noticed yet in the mad splash of the water. There was only about a meter left. Chrollo would win. 

They came within an arm’s reach of the grass bank. 

And then Hisoka snatched Chrollo by the angle and  _ tugged  _ him back, using his weight to propel himself to the pond’s edge. 

Chrollo spluttered in the water, head lifting with indignation

Hisoka grabbed at the mossy bank and heaved himself out, taking care to flex every muscle in his body as he did it. Illumi wordlessly handed him a towel. 

“I win!” Hisoka crowed as Chrollo treaded the water looking very irritated. 

His dark hair was plastered to his skull and his eyes were narrowed. 

“Come out,” Illumi said, biting back a laugh. He held out the remaining towel for Chrollo, who heaved himself up the side of the pond’s bank and quickly wrapped the towel around himself.

“You’re such a cheater,” he said sourly. Hisoka ruffled his hair. 

“I play to win.” 

“You suck.” 

“Actually--” Before Hisoka could finish, before he could really even begin, Chrollo turned and with both hands, shoved Hisoka into the pond. 

Hisoka’s body, on account of its sheer size, crashed awkwardly into the water. He yelped, and then resurfaced with wide eyes, half-covered by sopping bangs. 

“ _ Chrollo _ ,” he said, sounding affronted. 

The whole team had fallen very quiet, looking from Chrollo to Hisoka nervously. 

Hisoka’s soaked towel was draped over one shoulder, green with pond algae. 

The silence persisted for a few seconds more, until, like the chime of church bells, Illumi laughed. 

He laughed so hard that he ended up sliding down the bench, a hand on his stomach, head tipped back. 

Hisoka could see his molars from the pond. 

“Illumi,” Hisoka whined, “get me a towel.” 

“ _ I’m sorry--I can’t--”  _ Hisoka had never seen Illumi in such hysterics. Chrollo looked like a mix between proud and alarmed. 

“Will someone get me a towel?” Hisoka barked, sending three different freshmen scattering towards the closest dorm.

“Stop sulking,” Chrollo said. He bent at the waist to observe Hisoka up close. Hisoka gathered the filthy pond water in his mouth and spat it at Chrollo, who spluttered in disgust. 

“Stop it,” Illumi said weakly, wiping at his eyes, clearly unbothered if they actually stopped or not. 

“How long does it take to get a fucking towel?” 

“This is your fault,” Chrollo said. He had his towel wrapped around his shoulders, wet hair plastered to his forehead. Hisoka blew bubbles in the water. 

“Is it cold?” Illumi asked, mirth still in his eye. 

“What do you think?” Hisoka demanded. At that very moment, a breathless freshman returned with a towel. 

“If I get frostbite and can’t play for the championships, then you’ll all be very sorry,” Hisoka said as he pulled himself out of the water and snatched the towel. 

“Go to class,” Illumi said to the waiting team. “See you guys at practice.” They left in a mass exodus, shouldering their school bags and climbing up the hill to where the bulk of the campus’ academic buildings were.

“I’m going to my room to shower. I have algae everywhere,” Chrollo groused. 

He grabbed the pile of clothes that belonged to him and marched up the grassy knoll towards his dorm room. Hisoka and Illumi watched his small dark shape cut through the lawn absently. 

“I think everyone noticed you ogling me,” Hisoka said. He slumped onto the bench beside Illumi, letting the towel slouch around his waist. 

He stretched, unfurling the length of his torso. 

“I wasn’t ogling,” Illumi said mildly. 

“You’re really not subtle.” 

“I think you’re projecting.” 

“You do look really cute in your uniform, I’ll give you that. You’re the only one who wears it properly.” 

“That’s what the rules say.” 

Hisoka reached over with a wet hand and tugged at the starched collar of his shirt. 

“You look like such a stereotype,” he murmured. His wet bangs had been pushed back. Illumi could see the full expanse of his face: bright gold-coin eyes and dark brows. The bridge of his nose, towards the top, was ever so slightly crooked. It wasn’t something most people would ever notice. You had to have spent a lot of time staring directly into his eyes from a few inches away in utter silence. 

“Don’t you have class,” Illumi whispered. There was something addicting about being near enough to kiss someone but refraining. Their lips were so close that all it would take was a breeze from one direction and they’d be touching. 

Illumi could see the minute puff of breath that came from Hisoka’s mouth, the almost obscene glisten of his tongue. 

“Uhhh,” Illumi heard himself say, but it was distant, almost slurred. 

The sun was just starting to break over the treeline. It felt indescribably good to feel the warmth at his shoulder. Hisoka’s pale gold skin lit up. 

“Don’t you have a first period class?” Illumi managed again. 

“Whatever.” 

“You’re really wet. Aren’t you cold?” 

“I am cold,” Hisoka admitted, leaning in even closer. His mouth pressed against the corner of Illumi’s, not a kiss, just pressure. His lips were always so soft, pinkish from the vaseline he used. 

Illumi leaned into it, sighed through his nose. 

Hisoka was starting to shiver. 

“Let’s get you warmed up, then,” Illumi said against his mouth. 

* * *

“There’s a bird in the building!” A girl shrieked. 

“ _ Poor thing,” _ her friend said wistfully. The third of them regarded her two friends with raised eyebrows. 

“It’s a bird.” 

“It keeps crashing into the glass, it’s so sad.” 

The three girls had come into the main study lounge of the math building, carrying not a single bit of schoolwork. Chrollo and Paku, from their shared couch, glanced up at them with narrowed eyes. Shalnark and Feitan didn’t so much as lift their heads. 

“What kind of bird?” Illumi asked. Chrollo, Paku, Shalnark, Feitan, and Hisoka all stared at him. The three girls regarded each other. 

“Is it a big one?” 

“Um--” One girl began. 

“It’s, like, a sparrow,” the other finished, the unimpressed one. 

“Oh,” Illumi said, sounding bored again. The girls were still staring at Illumi with puzzled expressions and for some reason, it was making Hisoka a little defensive. He leaned over Illumi’s lap, took his water bottle, and drank from it. 

The girls watched that, too. 

“Let’s go see,” Shalnark said, slamming his work down with a bit too much eagerness.

“Class starts in twenty minutes. We can see it when we leave,” Chrollo said softly. Shalnark sat back down. 

When it was time to leave for class, the six of them headed down the stairs in order to cross campus. 

There was a small cluster of people bent over near the door. The bird was there, it’s tiny body heaving with panic as it flapped its wings pathetically against the class. 

Shalnark shooed the younger kids away and cornered the bird, crouching down and cooing softly to it. 

“Aw, he’s so scared. I think his wing is broken.” 

It fluttered like a heartbeat. 

“Lemme see,” Hisoka said, his countenance oddly subdued. 

Hisoka bent to inspect the bird, his red bangs falling over his eyes. The bird tried and failed to escape between Shalnark’s legs, but Shalnark just gently ushered it back into the corner. 

It was just them in the hall. Paku and Chrollo and Feitan were hanging back, watching Shalnark a little boredly. Illumi was situated on the couch by the entrance, fiddling with his phone. 

“It’s so sad,” Shalnark said, turning to look at Feitan, Chrollo, and Paku. In the moment that his back was turned, Hisoka grabbed the bird with both hands. 

“Woah,” Paku said, “that was so quick.” Hisoka held the bird up over his head and inspected it. The creature’s wings had finally gone still. It looked like it had been hypnotized, the tiny almond-shape of its beak half-parted, like it was mid-sentence and Hisoka had gone and rudely interrupted. 

“Does it look okay?” Paku asked. 

“Shal is right,” Hisoka said, “wing’s broken.” He looked over at Illumi on the couch. Illumi’s head lifted from his phone and he raised both eyebrows. Clearly, he didn’t care for this bird business at all. 

It was a little bit hot of him, the apathy. 

The bird suddenly sang a shrill note and Paku sighed sadly. 

“It’s so cute. Maybe--” 

Hisoka adjusted his grip on the bird and very cleanly snapped its neck. 

_ “Hisoka!”  _

It was funny that Chrollo of all people had been the first to react. He had his arm stretched out, as if he had been trying to stop Hisoka. 

Hisoka turned, brows drawn together in indignance. The dead bird was small enough to fit into one of his palms. 

“It was going to die anyway,” Hisoka said. “No use in letting it suffer.” 

“We could have taken it to a wildlife center, or-or a vet, you asshole,” Paku snarled. Feitan half-heartedly grabbed at the bottom of her shirt, to hold her back, but she was already surging forward, jabbing a finger at Hisoka’s chest. 

“It was going to die,” Hisoka said again, coldly. Illumi felt his stomach roll with nausea. He needed to leave. 

“You just didn’t care.” 

“It’s a  _ bird _ !” 

Paku’s eyes flashed. Her mouth opened, but Chrollo pressed a hand to her shoulder and she relaxed. 

“You better bury it properly. Take responsibility,” she said. 

She and Chrollo left while Feitan and Shalnark, both wholly less affected about the bird, trailed after. 

Hisoka suddenly felt exhaustion sweep over him, exhaustion and an itching, burning sensation in his throat. He looked to where Illumi was sitting, expecting to see him on his phone, looking bored, but he was gone. 

Hisoka swallowed and, still holding the bird in one hand, went outside to find him. 

It wasn’t hard. Illumi had finite places to go considering he didn’t have a room of his own on campus. 

He was perched on a bench by the pond, chin in his hand. 

“Why are you still holding it,” Illumi asked, not looking at him. Hisoka glanced down at his hand. The bird’s head was tipped back like a romance novel heroine. Its one broken wing was flared out and angled badly. The feathers around its neck were ruffled. 

“Paku told me to bury it or something.” 

“That’s stupid.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“It’s just a bird.” 

“So why are you upset?” The question seemed to hit Illumi like an insult. He turned his head and shot Hisoka a filthy look. 

“I’m not upset.” 

Before Hisoka could even begin to accuse Illumi of shamelessly lying, he was standing up, tugging at the thighs of his uniform pants--they were a little bit tighter than usual, which was nice to see--and marching back the way he’d come. 

Hisoka wanted to shout something scathing at him, loud enough that the neighboring dorms would hear, but he just didn’t have the energy for it. He didn’t have the energy for anything. 

The bird in his hand was starting to feel cold. It’s tiny ribcage felt about as substantial as a rice cracker. He could crush it in his hand if he wanted to, and it wouldn’t make a difference because it was already dead. 

He thought about it, leaning forward and back on the balls of his feet, mouth twisting in indecision, and then, with far more gentleness than a common sparrow warranted, Hisoka slipped it into the pond. 

It floated, which sort of ruined the moment. 

“Whatever.” 

Hisoka plopped down on the bench Illumi had been sitting in, tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and stayed there until classes were over and he’d accrued three different absences.

* * *

They were the fittest they’d been all season, the most experienced, the most prepared. They had played almost twenty games this spring. All that was left were the three championship games: the semis, the quarters, and the finals. 

But there was nothing left for them to learn, nothing left to iron out, no leftover stamina to be built up, so their actual practices, on pollen-heavy springtime afternoons, were halved in time and in intensity. 

“I don’t want injuries,” Coach barked as Illumi and HIsoka led another lap around the field at a leisurely jog. 

Illumi glanced sideways at Hisoka, gaze skating over his knee. In form, Hisoka looked excellent. Each step was light but powerful, the balls of his feet springing off the turf like he was weightless. His head was forward, shoulders back, his own gaze scanning the horizon like he was searching for someone in a crowd. 

The slightly feminine slope of his nose cut a too-sharp silhouette against the sky behind him. Illumi dragged his gaze forward. 

“Should we call it?” He asked Hisoka. All they had left to do was about half an hour of passing drills and then they’d be good to leave. It left an almost absurd amount of time for Illumi to shower and wring as much contact out of Hisoka as he could. 

“Yeah, let’s call it.” 

Hisoka and Illumi slowed to a stop. 

“Look what I bought.” Illumi pulled a big white net from his sleepover bag. 

Hisoka regarded it warily. It looked like a very large crochet top, but Illumi seemed delighted about it. He had one end draped over Hisoka’s bed and he was pulling excitedly in the other direction, spreading it until it took shape. 

Oh. 

“A hammock,” Hisoka said. 

“Isn’t it nice?” Illumi demanded. He had that intense look in his eye. Hisoka had to say it was nice, or else. 

“Mhm.” 

“It’s big enough for two people.” 

“It’s very nice, Illumi. Well done.” 

“I know the perfect spot to put it, too.” Illumi seemed in good spirits. His eyes were bright and he was wearing a very vividly-colored t-shirt, which Hisoka had learned usually meant good things. He liked that about Illumi: his transparency. He was the kind of person who wore yellow t-shirts when they were happy. 

“What spot?” Hisoka asked. 

“I’ll show you.” 

Like children, they held hands and scurried across campus. It wasn’t as hot as it had been yesterday, but it was still the kind of warm that was almost overwhelming, like soaking in a bath for too long. Even shorts and t-shirts weren’t enough to fend it off. 

The sky was a fearsome shade of blue, lighter at the edges like a watercolor. Fat white clouds dragged overhead. It smelled of grass and soil. Maybe it was going to rain soon. 

The spot Illumi had picked was just on the edge of campus, flush against the most densely-wooded part of the forest surrounding the school. 

The trees here were mature, dark and tall and coniferous. There were pine cones everywhere. Hisoka kicked at one absently as Illumi set to work hanging up the hammock with almost amusing precision. 

“You’re good at this.” 

“I like camping.” 

“I didn’t know that,” Hisoka said, feeling properly shocked. The thought of Illumi camping was unimaginable. He couldn’t reconcile it with the Illumi he was used to. He knew he wasn’t the prim, aloof boy he had first gotten to know way back in September. He knew by now that he wasn’t that at all. 

But this still felt like a departure. 

“What do you do when you camp?” Hisoka asked. Illumi slid onto the hammock, bounced up and down to test its strength, and then beckoned Hisoka over. 

“Hike, climb trees. I take Mike out a lot and we’ll go fishing. He likes to play in the water.” 

“Could we go?” 

“Camping?” 

Hisoka sidled into the hammock next to Illumi. The entire length of their bodies were squished together. Hisoka could feel Illumi’s heartbeat against his arm. 

Overhead, the tall, foreboding tops of the pine trees curved in towards them, like the precursor to an embrace. The air smelled of earth and pollen and that tingly, orange aroma that was vaguely recognizable as tree sap. 

“We can go camping,” Illumi said. He was looking straight ahead but his eyes were pitched to the side, so he could see Hisoka’s face. “We can go this summer.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka said. “This summer.” He rolled onto his side, wincing as the netting of the hammock dug into his skin. It took a bit of adjusting, but eventually, he found a comfortable position, with half of his body pressed against Illumi’s side, his nose against Illumi’s ear. Every breath tickled the dark baby hair at the base of Illumi’s skull. 

Illumi smelled of Hisoka’s deodorant and the two-in-one shampoo and conditioner he used at the locker room. 

Underneath it was the sweet lick of Zoldyck laundry detergent. Hisoka was convinced they used a very expensive boutique brand because the scent lasted forever and it was nothing like the generic cotton-baby smell of grocery store brands. It smelled like dark purple figs and orange. 

Illumi hooked one of his ankles around Hisoka’s calf, and let out a sigh so heavy it made the trees holding them up creak just a little. 

They fell asleep there, basking in the afternoon sun. It was only when it began to grow dark, and the wet chill of spring seeped into their bones that they woke. 

_ “Fuck,”  _ Illumi hissed, rolling awkwardly out of the hammock. Hisoka blinked blearily. 

“Hm?” 

“Gotta go. Car’s waiting.” 

Hisoka stumbled off the hammock, right into Illumi’s back. Illumi pitched forward and then righted himself, glaring back at Hisoka without heat. They were both too nap-soft to be genuinely irritated with each other. 

“Come on,” Hisoka yawned, leading the way. 

It wasn’t totally nighttime yet, closer, rather, to the tailend of dusk. Hisoka could just make out a rosy pink belt of sky between the treeline. 

Evening dew had already wettened the grass. 

“Are you sleeping over tomorrow?” Hisoka asked. 

“I’m gonna ask.” 

“Good.” 

Illumi shoved his things into his schoolbag when they got to Hisoka’s room. He had about a million sweatshirts and t-shirts strewn about, an accumulation of weeks of spending a nauseating amount of time together. 

Hisoka was pretty sure the underwear he was wearing had been a pair of Illumi’s he had accidentally washed and put in his drawer. 

“Okay, gotta go.” Illumi grabbed Hisoka by the jaw--it reminded Hisoka of an Italian mobster from a movie, the way he kissed--and smacked his lips against Hisoka’s cheekbone. 

“Love you, bye.” 

“Bye, bye, Love you.” 

Illumi shouldered his bag and trotted down the stairs. 

He was halfway across campus when a lone figure on a bench caught his eye. It looked like they were shining a flashlight down on a book. 

As Illumi got closer, it all became clear to him. It was Chrollo, reading an offensively-thick library book, with a headlight on. 

A headlight, like what miners used. 

His head was tilted down so the light was illuminating the pages. 

“Chrollo,” Illumi said, biting back a laugh. Chrollo’s head jerked up and he momentarily blinded Illumi with his headlight. 

“Jesus,” Illumi said, blocking the light with his hand. 

“Oh, sorry,” Chrollo said. He pulled it off his head. 

“What’re you doing?” Illumi asked. 

“Just reading. The weather is nice, and I was getting a little stir-crazy being indoors.” 

“I see.” 

Something rustled in the bushes nearby. 

“Did you need something?” 

“I don’t think so. I like your light.” 

“Thanks,” Chrollo said with a genuine smile. “Machi got it for me as a joke, but it’s actually really useful.” 

“Cool.” 

“You seem restless.” 

It was still shocking seeing the way Chrollo transitioned from benevolent and harmless to shrewd and knowing. 

“Is this about Hisoka?” 

Illumi scowled. 

“No.” 

“It is, isn’t it.” Chrollo’s smile could be just made out in the dark. 

“Are you seeing them this summer?” The subject-change didn’t seem to surprise Chrollo. 

“Who? My friends?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We’re going on a road trip.” 

“Oh.” 

“There’s a lot of national parks and museums we want to visit,” Chrollo began, closing his book gently in his lap. There was a wistful look in his eye. “So we’re going to do it all together.”

“And Phinks’ dad promised to take us out on their boat for a few days,” he added. 

Illumi was pretty sure his family had a boat, but he had never been on it. Kikyo didn’t like getting wet, and actually, right before this very moment, Illumi hadn’t seen the appeal of a boat, floating on water, salty air, nowhere to go. 

Now, the thought of kissing the salt off Hisoka’s shoulders with thirty square feet between them to share, nothing but water and sun, it sounded like a dream. 

“It was Feitan’s idea actually,” Chrollo mused. “Usually, I’m the one planning things, but I think he got a little nervous about the prospect of us separating after high school. It’s a very scary thing, losing people you’re used to seeing every day.”

“Yeah,” Illumi said weakly. 

“But the remedy is just… keeping in touch. It sounds obvious, but it’s true. It doesn’t have to be constant but there needs to be effort, effort on all sides. I was honestly worried about Feitan. I assumed he would be the worst out of all of us at staying connected. I mean, his texting is a nightmare. But, it’s nice having friends who can still surprise you after years of knowing them.” 

“My car’s here,” Illumi stammered out. He didn’t know what to say. This conversation was making him feel angry and anxious, and Chrollo didn’t actually deserve to be subjected to that.

“Oh, sorry.” Chrollo’s headlight came back on. His chin lifted and he regarded Illumi with a piercing stare--it didn’t help that he was also shining a very fierce light in Illumi’s eyes. 

“Hisoka isn’t like I am, you know. You can’t just stand in front of him and wait for a meaningful conversation to happen.” 

“I know that,” Illumi said a little hotly. 

“Just saying.” 

“See you tomorrow, Chrollo.”

“See you.” 

Illumi made his way past the bench, glancing over his shoulder every once in a while to see a bobbing white light dancing like a lone spirit between the trees. 

* * *

Illumi was always determined to spend as much of his weekend on campus as possible, but every so often, Kikyo would be struck with a sudden neediness, and he’d be forced to stay home and listen to her complain about her friends and their parties and the yoga pants they wore. 

“Kil, I understand you are friends with his boy--” 

“Mom?” 

Kikyo and Killua both turned, eyes wide in their heads. 

“Illumi, hi love.” 

“Are you busy?”

“Well, I’m talking to Kil about--”

“She’s not,” Killua said quickly, jumping to his feet and breezing by Illumi. As they passed, he elbowed him in the ribs. Illumi was almost certain it was a gesture of affection, gratefulness. 

“We are talking later, young man!” Kikyo shouted shrilly. 

“Okay!” 

“Yes, Illumi?” Kikyo looked a little ruffled. The silk sleeves of her wrap dress were too long, almost comically long, which was unlike her. The light green edges of a face mask were still stuck in her hair from the night before. 

Illumi didn’t know when he had stopped paying so much attention to his family, but it was strange, looking at them now. 

Killua looked taller, Milluki’s hair was longer, and Kikyo looked… messy. 

It felt a little good. 

“I wanted to talk about this summer.” 

“Summer,” Kikyo echoed. 

Though she was more neurotic than Silva, she was also easily manipulated, and once she was on Illumi’s side, Silva would be, too. 

Illumi tucked his hair behind his ears, folded his hands together, and leaned in. 

“I want to see my friends this summer.” 

“Oh,” Kikyo said, laughing suddenly. “I thought this was going to be something serious!” 

“It is,” Illumi said. 

“You can see your friends this summer. Just speak to your father about--” 

Illumi groaned. 

Kikyo blinked in surprise. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I just want to see my friends,” Illumi said tightly. “I want them to be able to come to the house. I don’t want to be alone all summer.” 

“And I’m just saying you need to speak to your father. You know how he is about the house.” 

“You can make decisions for yourself, you know.” 

“That Hisoka has been rubbing off on you. You’re being very rude.” 

“He’s not rude,” Illumi snapped. 

“Is that the friend you want to see? Really, Illumi? Red hair for God’s sake?” 

“ _ Kikyo--”  _

“Call me  _ Mother,”  _ Kikyo snarled. 

A silence followed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, forcing his voice to be quiet. Kikyo’s eyes roved over him. He could feel it, like searchlights from a helicopter. 

“I want you to enjoy your summer, darling. You’ve worked very hard. I’ll speak to Silva about loosening the reins for you this summer.” 

“Really?” Illumi asked, eyes wide and soft. 

Kikyo reached across the coffee table and cupped his chin, her thumb stroking the flesh of his cheek. 

“Your perfect face,” she murmured distractedly. “I’ll speak to him. Get you out of the house this summer, hm?” 

“I’ll still spend time with the family, I promise.” 

“I know,” Kikyo clucked. “You’re so good about that. A good--” She stood, stretching her arms overhead. The silk of her sleeves slid down to her elbows, exposing pale, soft forearms. “--boy. A mama’s boy.” 

Illumi watched her glide out of the sitting room, and as soon as she was gone, he smiled, head falling back over the couch in delighted relief. 

Maybe he  _ was  _ spending too much time with Hisoka, because that was way too easy. 

“Illumi--” 

Killua had his head poked around the corner of the doorway. 

“What?” 

“How’d you do that?” He looked equal parts suspicious and in awe. 

“It’s called being smart,” Illumi said primly. “I don’t just sneak out of the house at random hours.” 

“I’ve only done that twice,” Killua replied, looking resentful. He and Illumi both knew it was more than that but neither of them let on. 

“She’s so stupid,” Illumi mused. 

“You’re her favorite.” 

“I’m  _ really  _ not,” Illumi said. He laughed a bit. “I’m really not, Kil. Don’t be stupid.” 

“You’re never home.” Killua plopped down in Kikyo’s old seat. 

“Lacrosse has been keeping me busy. I’m a senior now.” 

“--hanging out with Hisoka.” 

“Shut up.” 

Killua’s eyes gleamed. 

“Is he the friend you want to see this summer?” Illumi looked him over, eyes narrowed. Four months ago, he would be giddy at the prospect of talking to Killua like this, at the idea of Killua initiating conversation, being interested in him. 

“Why are you talking to me?” 

“You’re never home,” Killua said again, terse. “It’s fucking stupid.” 

“You’re fucking stupid.” 

“Even when you’re home, you barely talk to us.” Illumi felt an earth-shattering sigh leave his body. 

“I have been talking to you, Killua, for twelve years.” 

Illumi saw him shrink in real-time. 

He didn’t say anything more. He just stared at his hands, chewing on his lip, trying, maybe, to come up with a rebuttal. 

“I’m not trying to guilt-trip you,” Illumi clarified.

Killua scoffed. 

“I’m just saying I’m over it.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m not your mother.” 

“I know that,” Killua said savagely. 

Illumi propped his elbow up on the arm of the couch and braced his cheek against his palm. 

“Anything else?” 

Killua brought his knees up and tucked them under his body. He looked sheepish. 

“Can you ask mom about--if I can see Gon this summer?” 

“Yeah,” Illumi said with a shrug. 

“Really?” 

“Why would I lie?” 

“You don’t like Gon.” 

“I don’t  _ care  _ about Gon.” 

“Too busy caring about Hisoka,” Killua sniggered. 

“Just changed my mind. Ask her yourself.”

“Hey, hey, please, come on.” 

Illumi ran a hand through his hair. 

“What are you going to do for me?” 

“You’re a dick.” 

Illumi stood up from the couch and crossed the room to the french doors leading out into the yard. He opened one of them, leaning against it as fresh air came flooding the space. 

“Walk Mike with me and then I’ll talk to her.” 

Killua’s expression broke open like a flower at the first sign of spring. 

“Really?” 

“Come on.” 

Killua leapt over the couch--Kikyo would have screeched if she saw--and followed Illumi onto the lawn that the sitting room looked over. Mike was snuffling at a patch of half-dug grass, the nub of his tail wriggling rapidly. 

“Mike!” Illumi called. 

“He listens to you,” Killua marveled, as the dog’s head shot up and he bounded delightedly towards Illumi. 

“He knows what’s good for him,” Illumi said with a shrug of his shoulders. 

Killua laughed. 

* * *

There was a free weekend between the end of the lacrosse season and the start to the championship tournament. It was customary for one of the players who lived nearby to host an overnight get together for the team. 

“I don’t get why you need permission if they aren’t going to be home.” 

“The staff will tell on me.” 

“The staff sucks.” 

“I need my parent’s permission, Hisoka, stop arguing with me. I don’t even want to have to do this, but I’m the only one who lives close by and you’ve been on my ass about it.” 

“It’ll be fun!” 

“It won’t,” Illumi said sourly. 

“These are the house rules,” Illumi began, glaring at the team in front of him. Hisoka sort of liked the feeling of being scolded by Illumi, even though he hadn’t even done anything wrong yet. 

“My parents aren’t home, but--” 

“They’re in Portugal, hunting people for sport.” 

“ _ Hisoka _ .” Illumi had very little patience today.

“Keep going, Illumi,” Chrollo said sweetly. Hisoka’s smile faded and he side-eyed him. Pest. 

“My parents aren’t home, but there are staff in the house who will report to them if you fuck shit up. Don’t go into their rooms. Don’t go into my brothers’ rooms. If you see Killua or Milluki anywhere just ignore them--”

“Milluki and I are friends,” someone whispered to their friend. 

“I forgot they were brothers,” his companion whispered back. 

“You can drink, but if you have to throw up anywhere, either go outside or do it  _ inside  _ a toilet.” 

“There are fifteen bathrooms in the main house, so your odds are decent,” Hisoka added. He saw Illumi’s fingers dig into the edge of the couch involuntarily. 

“Thank you, Hisoka. The kitchen is open. There’s a chef who can make food if you guys want.  _ Don’t  _ go in the wine cellar, please, do not.” 

“You’ll let them out,” Hisoka said, very matter-of-factly. 

“Let who out?” Someone asked. 

“All the mess-up children who didn’t meet the Zoldyck standard. They keep them in the cellar so--” 

“Will you stop?” 

“That’s what they scream, every night,  _ please, please stop _ .” 

“Okay, that’s all,” Illumi said with a sigh. “Have fun, I guess.” 

Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo tried to hide in the movie theater downstairs while the younger players fucked around in the living room and kitchen. 

“You have a really nice house,” Chrollo said, eyeing the high ceilings of the theater room. Illumi was staring at the couch with a distant expression, involuntarily recalling the last time he and Hisoka had been down here together, weeks ago, a frog documentary playing in the background. 

His ears were red. 

“Thanks,” he said distractedly. Loud voices from upstairs got closer and closer. 

“Ugh, they found us,” Hisoka said. He was sprawled over the back of an adjacent sofa--Kikyo found movie theater chairs tacky, so the theater room was filled with overstuffed, very deep couches instead. 

A pack of the younger players appeared in the doorway, eyes wide. 

“This is so cool,” one of them said. 

Illumi sighed. 

Chrollo and Hisoka were hunched over the same phone, watching one of Hisoka’s ASMR videos he liked so much. There was a period of time this spring where every sleepover, Illumi was woken at the oddest hours of the night by loud unpleasant crackling and whispering. 

It was a little concerning how often Hisoka indulged in these videos, like he was searching for a distraction. 

_ They help me sleep,  _ he had said with a dismissive wave. 

_ Why do you need help sleeping?  _ Illumi shot back. Hisoka’s eyes went narrow and the conversation moved on to something lighter. 

“How many ACLs have you torn, Illumi?” Hisoka called from the other couch. He was surrounded by a dozen lacrosse players as if he was reading them a story. They were staring at him with such reverence, such misplaced reverence, that Illumi almost wanted to laugh. Instead, he glared at him from over the top of a freshman’s head. 

“Why’d you have to phrase it like that?” 

“Like what?” 

“Like it’s a big number, like it’s a thing I keep track of.” 

“It is a big number, relatively, and you do keep track of it.” 

“It’s like four or something.” 

“It’s six!” 

“If you knew then why’d you ask me?” Hisoka just cackled maniacally, head thrown back like a hyena.

“Six?” A new sophomore breathed, eyes wide. 

“We’ve all agreed,” Chrollo added, smiling now, “that if we ever play a team with a  _ really  _ good player, like a D1-bound player, Illumi would just take him out early in the game. He’s really good at making it seem like an accident.” 

“It  _ is _ an accident,” Illumi said, redirecting his attention to Chrollo. 

“Illumi’s crazy,” Hisoka murmured. 

“Crazy, crazy, crazy,” Chrollo agreed. 

Illumi folded his arms and pretended to be annoyed by the attention. He would never admit it to Hisoka, but he was having fun. It felt good to be surrounded by noise and laughter and discussion, included but not participating. 

He could hear Chrollo and Hisoka the most. They were loud in their confidence and seniority. Hisoka, especially, had gotten better at these things, at being around people, at accommodating to it. 

Though no one ever expected it, Illumi was always the better one at being at these things:  _ parties _ . 

He had been well-trained by the dizzying lineup of events he’d been forced to attend as a child. He couldn’t begin to count the number of times his mother had tugged him aside, a cocktail sloshing in her grasp as she whispered harshly into his ear, “ _ that girl’s father is very important. Go talk to her.”  _

Hisoka, in comparison, was as flighty around people as a feral cat. He was naturally good at navigating conversations, naturally quick on his feet, but it was the kind of thing that required effort and awareness. Here, he was blissfully oblivious. 

He didn’t even notice Illumi’s fond staring, too caught up in the absent joy of listening and being listened to. 

Upstairs, a glass shattered but Illumi couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed. He stood up from the couch, watched amusedly as Hisoka’s head whipped around. It was like he had a sixth sense for him, or something. 

“I’m going to bed,” Illumi said. 

“You okay?” They weren’t the only ones in the room, not by a longshot, but it certainly felt that way. Hisoka was looking at him with his head cocked, lips parted in a way that suggested he wanted to say more. 

Illumi smiled reassuringly. 

“Yeah, of course I’m okay. Just ready to sleep.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka replied. Illumi made the rounds upstairs, saying goodnight to people, barking at them not to fuck things up. When he finally made it back to his bedroom, the door was ajar. 

He felt a snarl of anger. Milluki probably thought tonight would be the best time to sneak into his room, when Illumi was distracted with his friends. Illumi shouldered open the door and then faltered. His bathroom light was on. 

Hisoka was inside, in his boxers, brushing his teeth with Illumi’s toothbrush. 

“Oh,” he said quietly. 

“I was tired, too,” Hisoka said around his toothbrush. 

“Really?” 

“Mhm.” 

Hisoka’s phone was already charging at his bedside. The covers of his bed were pulled back, the dark satin triangle that was the underside of his duvet gleaming like an oil slick. 

“I’m gonna steal some clothes to sleep in.” 

“Okay.” 

“Can we get coffee tomorrow?” 

“Sure,” Illumi said distractedly. “Hold on--you really were tired, right? You didn’t come up here because you thought I needed it or something, did you?” 

Illumi felt his hands clench of their own accord. Hisoka confused him so much sometimes. 

Hisoka spit out the toothpaste in his mouth and rinsed with water. 

“You’re so weird, Illumi.” 

“You were in the middle of a conversation,” Illumi pointed out. 

“I was just tired. When you mentioned going to bed it reminded me how tired I actually was. So I came upstairs. It’s not a big deal.” But it was, because Hisoka wasn’t looking at him, and his ears were red, and he went straight from the bathroom to the closet, rooting busily through Illumi’s clothing like he was on a mission. 

“I just...” His voice was muffled from the closet. “Don’t like those things if you aren’t there.” 

The doubt and confusion stewing in Illumi bled right out of him. He smiled, a little smug, a little touched.

“Come out of the closet and say that to my face.” 

“You suck,” Hisoka said, emerging in sweats and a t-shirt. 

“So you left for me?” 

“It wasn’t  _ for  _ you--” 

“Because of me, then.” 

Hisoka sank into bed, observing Illumi with lidded eyes. 

“You’re actually very cruel, you know that?” 

“You’re so nice,” Illumi purred. Hisoka laughed. 

“I’m not nice. I just like you.” 

“Yeah,” Illumi said, joining Hisoka in bed. “I know that.” 

They lied in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the waning drip of water from Illumi’s faucet. 

“Hisoka?” He couldn’t just stand in front of Hisoka and expect a meaningful conversation.

“Illumi.” 

“I spoke to Kikyo, about us seeing each other this summer. Do you want that?” 

“Of course.” 

“You mean it?” Illumi rolled over, propping his head up with a bent elbow. Hisoka, still on his back, glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’ve told you--” 

Illumi couldn’t get it out of his head, Hisoka snapping that bird’s neck, expression blank. 

_ It was going to suffer,  _ he had said to Pakunoda, but that had been to soothe her. What he actually meant was that the bird wasn’t worth his time. There was no point in letting it live any longer, no point. 

“--who else am I going to hang out with this summer, Illumi? It’s not like I have a bunch of siblings to bully.” It was said slightly bitterly. 

“Right,” Illumi said. 

“I don’t know what kind of person you think I am,” Hisoka went on, voice softer, “but you aren’t… a high school extracurricular to me.” 

“I don’t just want to see you this summer,” Illumi said, feeling braver. “I want to see you every day. I want it to be just like how we are now.” 

“It’s not going to be like that,” Hisoka said, sounding unhappy about it. “It’s unrealistic to--” 

“I was just saying I wanted that.” 

“I want it, too.” 

“I know it’s not going to be like this again.” They would be in different places, with nothing tangible to bring them together. 

“I want to see you this summer,” Hisoka said, voice very hard, very serious, “as much as I possibly can.” 

“We have a boat.” 

“What?” 

“We have a boat,” Illumi said, sounding almost wistful. “We could go on our boat. Swim, or whatever.” 

“I’ve never been on a boat,” Hisoka said softly. 

“Aw, I’ll be your first.” Hisoka laughed and just like that, they were back to how they were before. 

Downstairs, Mike was barking and chasing tennis balls as some of the boys took turns chucking it as far as they could. The pond and fountain that lay just a bit below and beyond Illumi’s second-story bedroom was gurgling pleasantly. Frogs croaked in off-beat harmony. 

It was too hot for the heavy, down-stuffed comforter on Illumi’s bed, so he and Hisoka sprawled out atop of it, not touching, but breathing in tandem. 

A little speckled sparrow landed on the railing of Illumi’s balcony. Hisoka and Illumi both glanced at it, their heads moving in startling unison. They didn’t look away, not until the bird cocked its tiny, twitching head and darted off, letting out a final chirp before it became lost in the landscaped forest of the Zoldyck estate. 

* * *

“We’ve been over this a million times,” Coach said loudly. “But I’m going to go over it again!” 

The team stared at him in silence. 

“If we win this game, we are going to the fucking finals, do y’all get that?” 

“Yes,” Hisoka said, the only one on the bus who had decided to go ahead and answer the obviously rhetorical question. Coach fixed him with a glare and went on. 

“We are playing the team we lost to last week, the one we were so certain we’d be seeing in the finals. Their feathers are ruffled. They nearly lost to a shitty team in the semis. Meanwhile, we just came off of a  _ bloodbath _ of a game. Five goals in one half. They are shitting themselves right now. The momentum is in our favor.” 

Hisoka was on his phone, like most of the team. They had heard this pep talk a dozen times over. Illumi seemed to be the only one paying real attention, his elbows braced onto his knees, head jerked forward as he listened. 

Illumi was funny in that sport, for him, was almost the opposite of cathartic. Unlike Hisoka, he didn’t find peace or serenity or satisfaction in lacrosse. It was a place to put all of the aggression and anger and violence he kept stored in himself, and after games, after he had been wrung out sufficiently, there remained a slightly disturbing thrum to his person, a way in which he held the body that promised danger. 

Uncoincidentally, they got in their worst fights after lacrosse, when Hisoka was riding a blissful high he didn’t want disturbed and Illumi was vibrating with an unknowable ardor. 

“Like I said, we win this game, we’re in the finals, and at this rate, we’re playing--” 

“Noah,” Hisoka breathed, head lifting from his phone. Coach grimaced. 

“Yes, that team. We beat them at the beginning of the season, but they’ve gotten better.” 

“One game at a time,” Illumi said tightly. 

“Right,” Coach replied. “So, I’ve said all I had to say. Big game today. We lose, we’re out.” Coach returned to the front of the bus and the rest of the team returned to their headphones and protein bars. 

“Hey,” Hisoka whispered. 

“Hm?”

“Are you meditating?” 

“Just closing my eyes.” 

“Oh.” 

“And being quiet.”

“You’re not nervous?” 

One of Illumi’s eyes cracked open. 

“No. We’ve played them before.” 

“We lost,” Hisoka reminded him. 

“They won because they surprised us,” Illumi said with a shrug. It really was intoxicating the way he was before a game: a sudden onslaught of cold-cut bravado. Hisoka imagined it was something he had learned from his father. 

“And now we can’t be surprised,” Hisoka finished. 

“I know how their middle works now. Their starting middies aren’t as fit as we are. They rely too much on formation.” 

“Gonna tire them out?” Hisoka asked, leaning in close. 

“They’re gonna get dog-walked,” Illumi sighed, the barest smile on his mouth. 

Hisoka bit back a delighted shudder. 

Illumi hadn’t exactly been wrong. As soon as the whistle blew, the opposing team’s middies nearly keeled over with the force of Illumi’s dogged persistence. 

It only took twenty minutes for two goals to be put away, both from Hisoka, and then Coach was snapping his fingers at Illumi and mouthing very obvious instructions to hunker down and defend for the rest of the game. 

At half, the

“Hisoka!” Illumi called, a little breathless. Hisoka’s head lifted and swiveled until he found Illumi. 

“Yeah!” 

“Drop back for the last ten minutes!” 

“How far back?” 

“Become a middie.” Hisoka shrugged, said something indecipherable to the other two forwards and then backpedaled to where Illumi was. The opposing team’s goalie had the ball. 

“We’ll just let them play in their defensive third,” Illumi said. 

“Okay.” 

“If they look like they’re going to try to transition into attack, shut it down.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I was being serious!” Hisoka said defensively. Illumi locked eyes with him. They were both very red-cheeked and sweaty. Though they were handling the team well, it hadn’t been easy. The first half had been agonizing. 

“You’re playing really well,” Hisoka added. The goalie sent the ball to his right back. 

“You are, too,” Illumi said, and he meant it. He could tell Hisoka’s knee was bothering him a bit. Every step was ever so slightly ginger. Still, he had been running his ass off and he hadn’t complained about it once. He was smiling, actually, throat bobbing as he tried to control his breathing. 

The right back tossed it to the center, who then tossed it back. 

The clock was dwindling. 

The ball was switched to the left back. Illumi recognized him. He had been the one checking Hisoka the last time they played. He’d been too aggressive. 

The defender’s head lifted as he scanned the field. He was going to make a last-ditch effort to score. Hisoka stiffened like a hound on a hunt, but Illumi was already cutting across the field. 

“I’ve got it!” 

Two minutes left. Plenty of time to get a goal. 

The defender glanced out of the corner of his eye, saw Illumi approaching, and panicked, sending the ball down the line to a middie who was instantly accosted by one of Belmont’s right backs. 

Illumi’s gaze lingered on the defender and then he gathered up his remaining energy and briskly ran back to the middle, where the referee was holding his whistle to his lips, about to blow. 

Game over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading, as always, comments are my life's blood, i read every single one 
> 
> until the next update, peace!
> 
> my twitter: https://twitter.com/ohofcourses


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